


Longjohns

by mortianna



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Babies, Coming Out, Fassavoy, First Gay Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humour, M/M, Male Friendship, McBender, McFassy, Porn With Plot, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 24,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27415990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortianna/pseuds/mortianna
Summary: Michael Fassbender goes into racing, leaving behind his old life. Or does he? Someone just keeps being a part of his life, want it or not. Told from different perspectives, shorter and longer chapters.If anybody reads this and perhaps even likes :-) this one is finished and I need incentive to type the few chapters not yet typed. Your choice :-)and of course this is fiction and the characters are nothing like the real persons. Duh! Nothing belongs to me, which is just as well. Hard enough to handle the fictional ones.
Relationships: ALicia Vikander/Charlize Theron, Michael Fassbender/James McAvoy, MichaelFassbender/Alicia Vikander (implied), james McAvoy/Alicia Vikander (implied), threesome (implied) - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. I.

„Oh fuck“. James looked up from the paper he was reading, one leg curled under the other on the couch in Michael’s hotel living room–his one signature pose. Soccer –his one love. Speaking of which... Michael looked up from the stuff spread around him, kneeling on the floor, the lush velvety carpet, of all things. He brushed through his hair with both hands, so that it stood up like some animal’s, James didn’t know which, a peacock’s perhaps. He giggled and made himself even more comfortable on the couch,throwing away the paper –Celtic had lost, as usual –put his hands behind his head and cocked an eyebrow. “Again?” Michael’s brow knit as he looked at his colleague and friend, who had come by just to say “hi” and perhaps have a go at those electric rollers that were all about town.Or so James had said.

  
“Pardon?”, Michael asked in that sharp tone James knew all too well from filming –someone had to give in then, but he’d be damned if that was him. He wouldn’t be the one flying through the room, screaming. Nope. He knew that. Pity. Michael’s eyes turned out of focus as was his use when thinking of something completely different or if he didn’t really know what someone was talking about. Made him look smarter than he was, James knew that, but it still was impressive when, even after he had known him for so long and so well, the steely eyes came back into focus and focused on –him. All he could do was not to shiver visibly. He was quite good at that, he knew, he was quite a good actor, even if he didn’t have an academy award (nomination) to his name to prove it.

“You keep saying that”, James said and let his eyes go even more provocatively large and cheeky. He could do that to great effect, everybody said so. He’d never admit it, least of all to Michael, but he had read some of the Fanfiction, and man, he now knew better what worked and what didn’t than any highbrow Shakespeare critic could have told him. “Words words words”. So. There. You have it.

They hadn’t gone there before, only in this damned show, where he suddenly knew that his marriage was over (and when he came home, his then-wife told him so, too). But after that he had time and again watched the interviews they had done together and some films and even (in very long, drunken, self-pitying nights) had stooped so low and read –that stuff. And then he noticed –it hit him like a ton of bricks or a stadium, -that yes, they were all right. There was something between them. He felt better with Michael than with any other person on the planet (and he knew some), perhaps apart from his son (but that was a completely different thing).

Of course James had tried to put his feelings under the label friendship and even after he had watched THAT movie of Michael (completely in the nude, and man! That was a look to behold and really –intimidating) had he told himself that everybody had to be aroused by it (and ashamed and other things) and that didn’t mean that he was like –gay. Or had a thing for Michael. He had a son,goddammit, and had slept with countless women to the pleasure of both sides, even if he said so himself, but of course, he was also quite used to look under appearances and watch himself and his reactions closely and had to admit –maybe he wasn’t gay but he definitely had a thing for Michael. And the whole world (well, all who were mad enough to watch these interviews) had known before him.

They had even used the attraction the people had noticed for business; they had poked fun at it on the Blu-ray for the movie, going into the sexual connotations so many people saw in the movies even if they weren’t there before. Before they had played in them. It had been great fun playing with the notion that Professor X and Magneto were in love or at least in lust with each other, but more than that James thought of himself as something of a libertine and was not adverse to simply try if that worked out (sex-wise, mind, not like something like a relationship with Michael was in his stars, well there even was that girl he had fun with and liked somehow), but the question,the enigma, was that bloody Fassbender, who simply showed no sign of anything. He was the worst tease in one moment, making him laugh,especially, provoking him, then again best buddy and into that all-masculine bonding stuff with cars and beer -and he sure wasn’t gay – hordes and hordes of women on his way bore testimony to that.

Even while they had been doing these movies and spent a lot of time together with lots of fun, he had managed to get himself at least one of the most attractive actresses on earth, and had really done nothing for it, had only been Michael Fassbender, walking along and women fell flat on the floor before his feet and he simply had to pick them up, if he didn’t want to trip over them. James was not a bit envious, no, he was mad with envy –he wasn’t bad looking himself, he knew that,but he had to do some funny things with his face and words to get the girl – Fassbender had to do nothing at all. Fuck the man! Well, he would, but...

He was just as bad as the other man. Why had he come here today in the first place? They had been in lose mail contact since the promo tour for their last movie (and fuck, it would really be the last, damn the goddamn studio) and he knew the man would leave for a tourwith the racing circuit, where he would be all but unavailable, he left London and perhaps would die racing or he himself would die doing this damned play he had agreed doing and then at last he himself would be so fucking sorry for not even having tried to fuck the man. Even if he died trying which might not be too far away an option, all things (that –enormous-thing) considered, he and the world had seen (admired).

James made a gurgling sound and suddenly realized he hadn’t said a thing in a while, a rather unusual occurrence for him, especially in the –relationship –with this man; he knew he was good at talking and playing silly and dirty tricks just to hide his feelings. He was so good at it that for most of the time he didn’t know them himself. But feelings had a tendency of coming back. These had. As had the other man who now stood in front of him. Full front, not nude. James managed to look - up. To - the face. And put on his best Patricia face. Self-protection had gotten the better of him. But of course the other man could outdo him in stony any day. They had done that on the film – James had been the first to laugh and look away. As they had always tried to outdo each other, ruin takes and make the other laugh. Like schoolboys really.

“What -do -you –mean?”, Michael said now, in a voice as if speaking to a stupid child or a mass audience. Well, that was a sign in itself, wasn’t it? It wasn’t as if they weren’t saying the f-word all the time. It was nothing special. As a word. But he wouldn’t be the one to make it too easy for the other, he would have to do some of the work,too.For once. He was not one of these girls flying on the man or falling flat on their backs, skirt high and knickers down. So to speak. Only that he felt just like doing exactly that, what with the man gazing at him like that. There was no friendship there at the moment, and fuck!, of course he hadn’t thought of that before (‘as usual James!’) what happened if Michael was – adverse – to James’s hitting on him; would he laugh at him, despise him, ridicule him, talk about it? No. That last one–no. He never talked about any of the women. Not even –or especially not? –with James.

But he wouldn’t advance any further. The other guy had to take steps, too. If he wanted to. Only that he had. He collapsed near him –close, but not too close –on the couch. James didn’t even jump under the frightfully easy weight of the man. “I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing”, Michael said, burying his face in his hands. James frowned. What was that now? A trick? He looked harder and saw one steel grey eye watch him through the long fingers. James suddenly felt very hot. Angry. And hit Michael’s arm, hard.

“Ouch”, said Michael and held his arm. “What was that for? Are we in the game?” James did his best stony face, he managed to do it thinking of very old things, like Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart. Apocalypse. “You tell me”, he said.Michael sighed and relaxed into the couch, head back and throat standing out. James felt a sudden urge to bite it, hard, but he managed not to. But how much longer he couldn’t say. “I really don’t know if I’m doing the right thing”, Michael said again, from his heart or somewhere else deep down. “Alicia has quit me –on a leave, she said, but we know what that means –and I don’t know if that isn’t just a silly idea, that racing. It might seem idiotic to do it just now when...”

James suppressed the urge to hit the man again, harder, by settling on the information he had gotten: Michael was single, not too strictly speaking –and said: “When everything is going smoothly career wise”.”Yes”, answered Michael and it felt somehow closer, as if he had moved or the other man had, but James hadn’t noticed a movement, perhaps the couch had. “But it feels like I’ve been living in the wrong world all along”. ‘Oh okay’, James thought and now he did move closer, ‘were coming somewhere’.“You didn’t like acting the whole time?” “I fucking loved acting”, Michael said with vigour, and now he moved closer and put one of his long arms on the back of the couch behind James’s head, a gesture so common it shouldn’t have made James’s head dizzy with questions and his stomach knot. “Still do”, said a voice somewhere near James’s head. “But I have this feeling, it’s –you know –like shallow and shit. And that perhaps my acting has taken over my life”.

“What?”, James managed to say and not cuddle all too recognizably into the sinewy arm of the other. He could feel Michael’s body heat –the man was burning hot, literally, perhaps that was the reason he was so thin. James nearly hated this thinness, he himself had to do stuff to not be overweight and train for muscles, he really was a fat little baby, naturally, and Fassbender was an athlete –with this –thing –he just at the moment better not think of. Even if –or because –the crotch of the other man was very close just now, in these beige trousers he seemed to wear for weeks on end, with a shabby old tee, white or grey, looking stunning in them and getting into all the clubs, whereas he himself had to dress carefully to be anything near seductive – perhaps it wasn’t lust or whatever he felt for Fass but envy, jealousy and –okay, lust. Cause that began to become obvious, hopefully only to himself, now he felt the body heat of the man, saw his –whatever –and they were alone in this room, on this couch, with this lush carpet before his eyes, he had to look at if he didn’t want to look further at the outlines of –that –and become even more –agitated.

Thank god he had donned his widest pair of dark jeans in the morning. “Woyoumen?” James hated how he sounded like that little fox in bedtime stories with the rubber duck in his mouth. Yes, they were closer now and the outline of Fassy’s -thing was bulging, he was very nearly sure of it and managed to not look into his own crotch. He felt like on fire now, and, no, anger was nowhere to be found. “Meaning”, Michael said, not directly into his ear but so close it made no difference to his poor body that reacted nearly uncontrollably to it. James fought it, yes he did, by thinking of Samuel Jackson in his chair, dead eyes, dead bones and all, of the stuff he had had to endure while filming this movie that went pear-shaped after so much effort in this ISIS-camp and as that didn’t help things –much -of Briony Tallis. That helped, he hated that bitch, as long as Michael didn’t say another thing. Or moved. Or breathed into his ear. Goddammit!

“... that perhaps I was on the completely wrong track ‘cause that was so easy and seemed like the thing to do, you know?” No, James thought, Michael was definitely not nibbling on his earlobe, he must have something like a very vivid bodily illusion. He tended to have these lately. At night. On Tuesdays. He pulled himself together, took all the power he had used for the beast and got away from that mouth. A bit. A steely hand was holding his shoulder. Well,he wasn’t the one to talk, he had done worse things to many on set. Only that it had felt – different.

“Meaning you should have done the racing in the first place?”, James asked and knew he sounded like a petulant child. Only that his body didn’t feel childlike-at all! It felt like –really grown-up and up to something –and more. The couch moved, just the slightest bit. The mouth was back at his ear. To make it worse, a hand was now on James’s thigh, hauntingly close, desperately far away, but definitely showing the other man had-noticed. Or hadn’t he? Oh sweet God! James wasn’t sure what he was praying for, not really, until the hand moved up and the voice whispered into his ear: “No. Do you instead of – them”.

Then James knew and all kinds of sensations flooded his body. He moved a bit himself and managed to put one hand on the flat stomach of the man, quite too far down to be taken back as something vaguely bordering on friendly if unwanted. “Oh that”, he whispered hoarsely. “Well, you know what they say, don’t you?” “No”, Michael said and was now all over him, everywhere, it seemed, like a tornado, only that it didn’t feel intimidating, or if, only a bit, “What do –they –say?”

James was not interested in the least what anybody said to anything, he had a hard enough time to remember the question, what with Michael’s body, hands and yes- dick – all over him. The face of the other man was now very close to his own and never had he, James, longed for anything more than for him kissing him, knowing full well that wouldn’t be enough and slightly anxious because of the –thing –and at the same time completely aware of the fact that he didn’t mind a bit of potential harm to get what he wanted. Needed. Longed for. Desired.

“Better late than never”, he breathed into the other man’s ear while letting his hand travel –make that run –down the awfully slim underbelly to that completely not slim –awesome! –thing that bulged and strained these trousers in a way that all thoughts of ‘only friendship’ went out of the window. Forever. Michael drew in a breath, sharply, and threw back his head. “Help yourself”, he whispered hoarsely. And that James did. He never was one to not take what was given freely. Would have been impolite, wouldn’t it? And apart from all the banter and foul words James was anything but.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> different point of view, more smut, short

“Wanna talk?” James came to and his eyes popped open. “Wawhat?”, he asked, trying to comprehend the question and the situation on hand. Just now he had been in total bliss with... “Oh”, he said, his finger touching the fabric of the couch that wasn’t his. “It was real”. A chuckle. Michael was lying on the floor (carpet) looking at him, with those eyes. But why was he – dressed? Wearing his pants?   
James looked down his own frame. “Oh”. Another chuckle. “Fuck”. James said, disbelievingly. Honest. Sad. Angry. “Not quite”, Michael said, “but it was quite an effort”. James threw a cushion at him. “Bastard, asshole, fucking...”. The other man was over him in the wink of an eye. “Shsh”, he whispered, his eyes boring into James’s. “It was quite – interesting – as long as it lasted.”  
“Interesting?”, echoed James trying to hit the other man which he stopped with no effort at all. “Sorry”, Michael said, with no sorrow in his voice, “wrong word. Refreshing, exhilarating...” “Satisfying?”, James asked. Michael shook his head. “Not yet, I’m afraid”. James’s head fell back onto the headrest of the couch. “Oh”. He felt miserable. That hadn’t happened in ages. Like –never.Ever since he had been 13or so. “You blacked out”, said Michael and if there was a chuckle in his voice, it was a very small one, and James felt Michael’s fingers stroking his cheek, “just like a virgin from the 18thcentury”. That did it. James pushed himself up until he was face to face with Michael again. “I’m not a virgin, fuck you”. Oh, and body to body. “Ah”, said Michael, “so you have done -this -with other guys before?”   
“I thought I told you”, James started hotly, then noted the smirk on the other man’s face. He had done it again, said something just to bring him up. “Fuck you, Michael, you...” “That’s what I’ve been waiting for”, said the other man and pressed down James’s body with his own as if to stress the point. “For hours now, I should say”. “You are such an...” “Asshole, I know”, Michael said with this deceptive calm. “By the way, do we have to draw straws as to who is doing the giving?”   
James felt himself blush and irritated – like Michael had done that so many times and knew all about it, that insufferable man! “I thought we just try, Michael, you know?”, he said with that smile on his face he knew had some effect on that ice block. He faintly remembered having felt the effect under his own hands, must have been ages ago. “And see who has the upper - hand – in the end?”   
“If it comes to that”, Michael grumbled. James smiled. The other guy was much taller but thin as a straw and he himself was quite trained and pumped up from the last movie, he could do this. “Well, let’s begin, if that’s okay for you”, James said, pushing the other man down onto the floor. Michael’s eyes widened but he didn’t seem completely unhappy with the situation. Or disinterested, if James’s eyes didn’t betray him.   
“Ready when you are”, Michael said, positioning himself flat on his back, legs just the slightest, tormenting, bit spread, head held up high to watch James who lunged himself onto him in one smooth movement and pressed his lips onto the other man’s,crushing his head into the carpet, kneeing his legs altogether more apart and started to kiss him in earnest and let him feel his whole body with his own. ‘I get you, motherfucker’, he thought. Then he thought no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> want me to go on? them?


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the beginning. Michael trying to begin a new life. Then he opens a door. In comes you know who. No. Not this one. Michael's point of view.

“Fuck”, Michael said and fumbled his hair. Of all the persons in the world this was the one. He didn’t  
want to meet. Flee more like. Fuck again. But the other was on his way to the door and he couldn’t  
pretend he wasn’t in, the doorman had told him he was. He looked down his body –yeah, it had  
gotten a bit too slim, but it had to fit into a racing car, for God’s sake and Alicia wasn’t the one to  
talk, what with her two oranges for lunch and apart from that –well, never mind Alicia. The person  
on the other side of the door – he could almost imagine to feel his presence – was a completely  
different story. He couldn’t change his week-old clothes –and wouldn’t. And he couldn’t make the  
mess on the floor less messy – and he hated himself for even thinking about it. There was a beep on  
his phone. “Oi Fassbender. I’m here. Let me in. Mc”. Michael sighed and went to open the door. If  
only ... 

The bastard looked attractive as hell. He had always been, but now he looked almost his age, what  
with the grey streak of hair and he had muscled up for some movie or other. He seemed to make  
them by the dozen. Dressed into dark blue jeans that were not too tight at the waist but hugged his  
thighs. Together with a blue shirt matching the unearthly tone of his eyes and a cosy-looking jacket,  
all Michael could do was not to ... do anything bizarre. Yes they had done all this banter in all these  
interviews all the time, but they had never been alone. And never were unmarried, in a hotel room  
even. This was not to endure. Well, it was and he would. He was quite good at enduring. Lasting  
even. He could do this. He was a fucking actor after all. Well, had been. He wasn’t too sure about that  
anymore. Like with all other things - he wouldn’t have thought that male menopause settled in that  
early. Perhaps it was the smoking. 

“Oi Fassbender”, James was through the whole room now and back directly in front of him, clapping  
him heartily on the back. Michael managed not to tremble visibly. “You gonna say something?  
Anything? Fuck, you look like Jesus on the Cross! When have you eaten last? I thought of going out  
for some fun but you actually look too weak to lift a fork. I shall have to breastfeed you. I could, you  
know? Look, I had this Swedish coach, he did wonders for my bust line”. 

Michael was torn between amusement and annoyance – as was usual with the guy – he talked and  
talked and some of it was funny and some of it utter nonsense. Or was it? Bust line? Come on. “You  
seem to have gained weight”, he acknowledged, “good food on your new movie? What was it?  
Macbeth?” Both men howled with laughter and suddenly it was all easy again. Everything was alright,  
Michael told himself as he ordered some pizza and beer from a nearby shop and both men settled  
down on the fluffy carpet, back to the couch, gloriously ignoring the stuff Michael had tried to sort  
out. James did most of the talking as was usual and Michael naturally fell into his usual elated mode  
with him, talking much quicker, funnier, wittier, well everything. The pizza came and the beer and  
with it a complimentary bottle of not too bad wine. James had taken off his shoes, socks, and jacket,  
to be even with Michael and feel as comfortable as possible like always. They were eating, drinking  
and talking about this and that, mostly about the cars Michael was going to drive. In a very male  
buddy way. There was nothing more to their friendship, Michael knew it now and was strangely  
relieved. So when this day ended, he would be free in more ways than one and could begin a new  
career with new – friends. He felt nearly convinced himself. 

The other man showed no sign of being or wanting anything more than a friend, he even touched  
him frequently in his usual manner, more like slapping him on the arm, shoulder, even chest.  
Completely asexual. Fuck the man! “Mind if I try and sort out that stuff?”, he asked, when he felt a  
little – strange –from the banter, the vicinity and the touching of the man who could do all that  
without ever having to stop the talking. He had to bring some space between them or else he would  
do something really humiliating like beg him to leave or else... “Okay”, said James and hopped onto  
the couch effortlessly, “I wanted a look into the paper anyway. Afterwards we can go to town, okay?”  
The stamina and resilience of the man were something to admire, Michael was sure. He sank down  
onto the stuff and tried to give an impression of being busy with work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, had to say something too, hadn't he? If you like, like :-)


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two men formerly known as heterosxual - well-known, even to themselves, try to come to terms with an attraction to each other. Let's get physical.

“Fuck man”, Michael panted, wriggling helplessly on top of all the things he had so desperately tried   
to sort out. Apart from ... “Yeah man”, came James’s voice from somewhere deep down and he could   
feel his breath, too, between his legs, the bastard had been teasing him for some time now and he   
wouldn’t suffer that any longer. Then there was James’s face again, just above his own, smirking.   
How he could do all that he did – had done – and still grin was beyond him. “That’s what I’ve been   
trying to do, you know?! If you had just stopped this wriggling long enough for me to – prepare – we   
could already be done with it and heading to town”. With this, the insufferable man whose body was   
pressed against his so that he could just feel he wasn’t as disinterested in – things – as his words   
suggested, bit him into the neck, playfully, yet hurting a bit, just like his smacking people did hurt.   
“I’m on top, noticed?”   
Michael growled. He had thought they were over this banter thing, damned! Could this guy not be   
earnest for once and stand to that which he – they- were doing? Speaking of standing – Michael   
flipped the smaller but heavier body with some effort so that he was on top now, pressing down on   
James with both hands to the sides of the others head and looking into these unbelievably blue eyes   
that seemed bluer than ever. “You were”, he purred directly into his mouth, prolonging the two   
syllables into eternity, as it seemed, until he bit into James’s lower lip, just to prove his point and dug   
into the open mouth of the other. He was good at that, he knew it and it was not long after that the   
other man did most of the wriggling, moaning and begging, if you could call it that: “Fuck Michael, do   
something will you?! Anything”. Michael smiled sardonically. He liked to feel on top of - things –,   
relished the feeling of power. He pushed his hips forward a bit, then kept undulating slowly, very   
slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. Which he hadn’t and he knew the other could feel it. But   
he was so used to acting – in the sense of acting, not of doing anything – through his bodily needs   
and wants –what with the hours on end running naked in front of the camera not being allowed to   
pee off set just to look as enormous as possible? – that he could say: “Do you ever stop talking,   
James?”   
The other man’s grin widened. How had he recovered so fast? He had been an uncontrollable mess   
just seconds before. “Make me”, James whispered, licking alongside Michael’s ear and neck. “I   
thought you rather liked my talking”. Michael groaned. The bastard had some tricks, too, apart from   
this goddamned body, face, and voice. His earlobes were extraordinarily large and sensitive. “There’s   
a time for everything, James”, he hissed into the other man’s ear, “a time for talking and a time for”   
“action” he was about to say, when James flipped him around as if he weighed nothing and Michael   
was the one lying flat on his back with the other man propped between his legs and his upper body   
pressing him down. With a mischievous grin James said: “See, I’m the one who’s doing the giving”. 

Michael howled as their still clad bodies – who had had the time to undress with all this rolling on the   
floor? – hit on each other again and again as if they were done with all the fruitless banter after all.   
“Fuck it, James, fuck who is doing the giving, do something, for fuck’s sake!” “If you ask so nicely”,   
James grinned and went to start in earnest on Michael’s ears (he had noticed his reactions all too   
well, Michael thought dizzily), mouth and cock, holding Michael down with one hand and rubbing   
against him groin to groin while using his free hand to stroke - more like hit – him through his   
trousers. It wasn’t the most elegant of actions, a part of Michael thought lazily, but it did the job   
admiringly well. .Both panted and groaned and shouted after a short time, and boy, if that hadn’t   
been the most fucking exciting sex he’d ever had, he had Alzheimer’s.   
“See, and we didn’t even take our pants off”, James said blithely as he was lying in his arms   
afterwards, taking a drag of his cigarette, “but”, he added, chuckling, looking down on both of their   
pants, “we might need room service here”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the struggle to be on top. *sigh* always two little boys, two not so little toys.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ridiculously short. Not that much of a thinker here, James. This here.

“We’ll have to take them off for that, you know?”, Michael said through the smoke leaving his   
mouth, which was the damnedest sexiest thing James had ever seen apart from the things he hadn’t   
seen yet or only – if often, oh so tantalizingly often – on TV. That Blu-Ray was really worn out, if wear   
out they did which they didn’t of course. James shook his head disbelievingly and felt a grin tug at his   
mouth – was it possible that they really had done – that? Like teenagers? He had done the giving, he   
had been on top, so it was his fault. Michael must think him so foolish. Inexperienced even. Which he   
was, with men, of course. He still didn’t know if Michael... What he did know, felt more like, and not   
believing his eyes and feeling, was, that he was up to it – again. Must be the teenage spirit. He wasn’t   
the one to complain but turned to his left and started unbuttoning those trousers. He really liked the   
sound Michael made but helped him not to suffocate – he took the cigarette away from those lips   
and stubbed it out on the floor. He saw Michael’s eyebrow rise. James grinned angelically – he had   
seen, even felt something else rise, too. So Michael was also up to it. He wouldn’t have expected   
anything less of the man.


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have another go at it. Smut. Fun. Bad jokes. Physical capacities only possible in fanfiction. I think. If any of the gentlemen concerned wants to prove me wrong, just give me a ring. Meaning a call :-)  
> Nothing belongs to me, as we used to say on ff.net Should be clear though.

That man would be the death of him, Michael knew it. How on earth had they survived all this time  
together without doing – this? And how would they survive afterwards? If he did survive – Michael  
had a feeling he would have to be taken out of the hotel on a stretcher. But it was fucking worth it  
and it was getting more and more so by the second. What with James’ fingers opening the buttons of  
his pants so tantalizingly slow –the bastard. Or did he need time to recover? He was two years his  
junior and super fit and didn’t smoke habitually so... No. Michael’s eyes told him and his fingers  
confirmed without him having the slightest idea of making them do – that, yes, the other man was  
completely up to it. Again. But perhaps this time, this night – and it would be the last time, cause  
tomorrow he would be gone and James would be on his own way, they could do it a bit more  
dignified. Becoming their age.  
“What is it?”, asked James irritably, when he began shaking under his hands – not from lust, that was  
quite visible, even if visible it was that was there, too, it still was – but from laughter. He roared with  
laughter, then tried to say something shaking his long forefinger and his head at the same time –  
James had seen him do that before, on that show, and it did impress him again. He couldn’t help  
smiling – even if he was laughing about him, it was okay. “Sorry”, Michael said, “I had the strangest  
thought”. “Like what?”, James asked and let his fingers rest on the half-buttoned crotch – and that  
which he felt bulge under them, and to tell the truth, he wasn’t much interested in ideas, no, thank  
you sir; in the films it was always him with the speeches nobody wanted to hear, but that Fassbender  
could have this hard-on and laugh and think and talk at the same time was irritating beyond words.  
“Grown-up”, Michael still shook under his hands, “becoming our age”. James took away his hand.  
“And what would you know about that?”, James asked and couldn’t hide his hurt pride completely.  
He thought he had done quite well, all things considered, but, of course, Fassbender was the far  
greater actor and perhaps he had had affairs all the time with guys under the radar, while sleeping  
with every woman on set in the open – well, ok, not in the complete open. He had never caught him  
at it.  
“James”, that voice said and he felt, yes he felt, those fingers moving in his crotch. “I know nothing  
about it, trust me, I mean from experience, but I have a general idea, you know, that it doesn’t  
involve clothes”. “Ah, yes, do you think so?”, James managed to say under those fingers – he only  
managed to not hump them by the thought that he would not come in his pants - again. “Yesss”,  
hissed Michael and gone were James’ pants. Under them he wore – “oh no”. Too late. He saw  
Michael’s eyes squint disbelievingly, then the man laughed out loud. Again. And James did too. What  
else could he do, caught as it were, in the act? “Prepared, are we?”, said Michael in that most  
seductive of voices. “Like a good boy scout. You never know, do you?”, said James, simply knowing  
that he was blushing fervently. He had thought it a funny idea putting them on, never knowing,  
imagining, not even dreaming that it would come to – this. It was a simple boxershorts, well, simple  
in terms of fabric. .Blue as the Scottish flag with a comic showing Magneto and Professor X kissing  
like – well like the both of them had kissed before. He had seen it on a fair he went to with Nick and  
both had gotten so drunk that Nick bought him this – no idea how the bastard had known, well might  
be that his talking about Michael here and Fassbender there had told the tale much better than he  
had realized even to a more than tipsy friend.  
“That is appalling”, Michael said, his eyes on the shorts but his hands – gone. James shivered under  
the gaze. His hands had fallen down to his sides and he felt very naked and not in a good way.  
“Horrid”, he agreed, “plus they are an uncomfortably slim fit”. And strained to the utmost even now  
under the constant gaze of the man lying near him, his pants still half-buttoned and hanging loosely  
down over a decent looking white undie –well decent as far as he could see, most of it was still  
covered by the pants.  
“You don’t say”, said Michael and with a fluid movement he was over him, pulled the boxers down  
James’ legs –without meeting any resistance, it must be said – throwing them on the other stuff in  
wild abandon, and before James could say a thing, or move, or cover himself or any such foolish  
thing, was over him again and swallowed him. Whole. That was when James screamed. Violently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scottish sense of humour. Appalling. Like? Leave cujo. No. that other thing :-)


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well if you read until here, you know what to expect: more coming to know you better between James and Michael. Seeing each other in the biblical sense, Or rather not. Yes I feel ashamed but... Apart from the sex stuff I think I really like them as characters :-) These here. No idea about the real guys but there was a time where they asked for it. They're much more grown up now. Unfortunately.  
> And world peace. Of course.

James panted. Those eyes glinted mischievously from deep down. That shark-like mouth grinned at  
him. “Any complaints up there?” “Noonoo”, breathed James. “Only that you are still dressed.” Well,  
he was too, he was still wearing his shirt, like some sort of ridiculous pyjamas for two-survivor. He  
pulled at the shirt vigorously. Some button or other sprang away, James couldn’t care less. All he  
cared about was the unearthly feeling Michael had given him just a moment before - this mouth and  
throat were so enticing – only to let go of him again, very slowly and as if kissing every inch of him  
goodbye – well, hopefully it was more a ‘see me later’. He felt lost without Michael around him  
already and more naked than ever, which he was, and everything laid out – springing more like – and  
the other man still hiding in his clothes. It was not to be endured, not for a second longer.  
He jumped up with enough vigour to climb the wall but instead climbed on Michael and ripped off  
that tee – it was old and thin anyway and slithered further down that awfully long, slim, yet ripped  
body to tear down the pants: They came down alright in one move and James threw them away onto  
the puddle of stuff already lying there. Now for the underpants. James glanced at the man wildly,  
panting heavily, what from the work he’d done or other things he didn’t stop to learn. The sight of  
Michael’s eyes, staring at him, glittering, and his mouth, half-opened, his chest heaving and this  
white abomination straining, gave him the direction in which to go. 

“Tit for tat”, he said, showing his sunniest grin, then went down on Michael and pulled at the rim of  
Michael’s undies with his teeth, very slowly at first – this dentist work had cost a fortune – and after  
he had blown on the outlines of Michael’s dick, making it twitch and strain even more against its  
cage; he tore them off in one piece and let his hand help his teeth once they had overcome the –  
enormous – barrier and do away with the last piece of clothing. Then he sat back on his heels and  
looked at that giant bobbing thing; he really felt something like – apprehension. 

“Wow”, he said, “just wow”. “I know”, said Michael, sounding not overly shy, but not used to that  
kind of open admiration also. “Imagine having to wear that costume with – this”. “Which costume?”,  
asked James absent-mindedly and touched IT with one hand as if exploring if a wild animal was tame  
enough for him to come closer. Michael hissed – James loved the sound of it and got rather addicted  
to it – and pressed through clenched teeth – James’s hand was now trying to cover the full length of  
it, which it didn’t – “any costume in your vicinity, for fuck’s sake”. “Interesting use of words, Mr  
Fassbender”, answered James, feeling not a little elated and yes - relieved – he hadn’t been the only  
one with that problem, even if his hadn’t been quite that large – and flattered. 

He stroked the length, still as if acquainting himself with the animal that seemed to like him very  
much indeed, as it jumped into his hand, it seemed to enjoy the touch. ‘Well, come on, try if he likes  
that too’, James thought and with his most mischievous grin, he went to put one hand on the other  
side of Michael’s narrow hips, rested the other arm on the elbow and was now in a wonderful  
position to look the animal in the eye, so to speak. He blew on it softly, eliciting twitches and tears  
from it. James smirked and looking up into Michael’s face – he was eyeing the action fervently –  
opened his mouth, and yes, his mouth had been praised by more ladies than one, it must be said,  
and this was one feature he had on Michael, even if he said so himself – licked his lips and put them  
around the head of the animal. 

Michael groaned, his hips bucked and the animal cried some more. James grinned around it. “Quite  
easy to impress you are, Mr F”, he said around Michael’s cock, not really caring if the man could hear  
him. The animal seemed to like his voice or the gush of hot air going with it. “Fuck James, do  
something, or I swear, I’ll kill you”. Wow, the man sounded really desperate. And yet he hadn’t done  
anything special – yet. He’d have thought he’d need to get used to doing – this, but it really came  
quite natural to him, it was so much easier really when things laid themselves out so visibly and you  
knew from first-hand experience what felt good and worked. Even if it wasn’t Tuesday. 

He moved the hand which kept him up from near Michael’s body onto his sinful hips to hold the man  
down and started to work again. He slid his lips over it but was sure he couldn’t swallow the whole  
thing, what with his much smaller mouth and well yes – proportions weren’t quite right. But that  
didn’t prevent him from showing the bastard what he could do with his clothes off. He circled the tip  
with his tongue and let it slip into the slit – Michael groaned loudly and bucked his hips helplessly –  
“Fuck, James, more, please” –and James felt happily rewarded and quite good at being bad. He took  
away his mouth – Michael made protesting sounds and bucked his hips even more – and said with his  
sternest stare: “Mr Fassbender, I shall have to tie you down if you don’t let me ... do you”. 

Michael’s eyes flared. He certainly wasn’t used to be talked to like this, but didn’t really seem to  
mind. James sent him another cheeky grin and set to work again – he gave the animal a few good  
hard strokes with his fist, then simply held it and took the – impressive – part that wasn’t covered by  
his hand in his mouth again. Michael howled very rewardingly and James smiled – ‘Yes, Mr F, I will  
make you suffer for every time I had to see you in this uniform and pretend I was in charge of  
anything’, when he noticed, quite foolishly late and suddenly that he was not only playing the other  
man but that his play had him worked up, too, his cock pressed against Michael’s muscular thigh and  
began twitching and weeping, too, and he was not sure if he could out-endure the other, well, part of  
him didn’t even want to anymore. 

“James, please, I want...” “Yes?!”, hissed James, rather more aroused by the desperate sound of  
Michael’s voice and he knew, not very much longer and he would simply be jumping the other man,  
humping him, rubbing himself on him, what with dignified and becoming our age, my arse – well that  
would have to wait – again, wouldn’t it, fuck, when, oh fuck, Michael made these whimpering sounds  
in his throat and had his hands in his hair and pressed him down on himself and pulled him up again,  
trying to break the spell, stroking his hair, then hissed again and whispered: “James” in a voice that  
sent James over the edge, irreversibly, and he started fisting Michael in earnest, circling the tip with  
his tongue and howled himself, when he felt Michael’s hand on his own cock, supporting the friction  
he already suffered from his helplessly rubbing himself against Michael’s thigh, and yes, he’d make  
him suffer for it and he was the one who was doing the giving, for fuck’s sake, even if it did not come  
to this – again – as was as sure as Celtic’s loss – again -; he fumbled with his free hand under  
Michael’s wonderful arse and let it search for that hole, found it and without further ado put his  
middle finger inside. He could feel Michael’s surprise – for a moment all action stopped, then  
Michael said: “Fuck James, yes, go on, or I’ll really have to kill you”, and so James did go on with  
mouth, hand and finger, sucked, pumped and worked inside, hitting a spot that made Michael howl  
and scream and twitch and bend and come and himself panting and screaming and even screaming  
Michael’s name and hitting onto Michael’s hip, into Michael’s hand and when that bastard took away  
his one hand from James’s head over his cock and put a finger in his, James’s arse, and hit a spot that  
he had known existed only from hearsay before, he too came, loudly, wonderfully and collapsed onto  
Michael’s belly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, there's more of this where this came from. If you want to see it - leave thingy.


	8. VIII.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone told me she was actually reading this, so here we go :-) more...smut. and fun. Doing things they can only do in fanfiction. Or would!?!?! in this short one thinking. On both sides. Difficult that.

“Now, Mr Fassbender”, James said when he could talk again, looking up from Michael’s incredible navel where he had rested his head, to the face of the man looking down at him, still panting slightly and flustered. “Was that dignified enough for your taste?” Michael chuckled and then they started laughing full out loud. “Oh, come up here, you undignified man”, said Michael and his voice was husky. James cocked an eyebrow –now that wasn’t possible, was it? They were both 40 after all, no teenagers, all signs to the contrary notwithstanding. But he snuggled up to the man so that they were lying face to face, Michael had his left arm under James’s head and Michael said: “Fuck dignified, that really was something. I dreamt it would be, but ...”.   
James felt his blood rushing to his face and downstairs at the same time –again. He had dreamt of it! Him! Oh fuck –giving in to feelings after all and no longer playing it safe feeling wise no matter what, James bent over to kiss the other man thoroughly and that he did –not hastily, leading to things as they had done before, no groping, panting and sweating, but tenderly, caressing Michael’s face with his hands as if trying to smooth out those lines –he really should stop smoking, James thought, and eat more -, he kissed him softly and slowly, with no pressure at all, but as if his heart was in it, which it was. Michael sighed when they parted and took James’ head in both his hands: “Look James, I can’t promise you anything, but you should know...” There was a knock on the door. The men looked at each other with not a little bit of consternation.   
“Mr Fassbender, is everything alright with you? There was a noise heard”. James and Michael looked at each other with raised eyebrows and James fell flat on his back, trying to stop his giggling only very feebly. “It’s alright in here”, Michael managed to call out, “we just had some fun”. “Oh, okay, Mr Fassbender, sorry for having disturbed you. Have a nice day”. James snorted with laughter. “There was a noise heard. Very Victorian”. He bit his arm to stop his giggling and looked into Michael’s face that was now completely calm. And not in a good way.   
“Oh come on Michael, I don’t want to marry you or anything. People are allowed to have some fun, are they not? But I could use a shower –is there anything like that in this ancient building?” Michael looked at James in a very peculiar way James wouldn’t think about just now, then stood up in a fluid movement and pulled the smaller man up with him with such vigour that their bodies bumped against each other. With the most interesting results, both noticed.   
“Oh, fuck it, Michael. I need a shower first. Afterwards you can show me what exactly you mean by dignified”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, there has to be a world outside, has it not? There always is...


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Bathroom. A shower. Feelings not talked about. Leading to - things. Done. Well, someone is a bit ...too straightforward for his own good. Leading to ...damage. Not for eternity though.

Michael was heartbroken but of course wouldn’t show it. So Mr McAvoy didn’t want to marry him? It had been only sex to him? Not that he himself was into marriage, not again, let alone with a guy, even such a gorgeous one, but he had thought they both had been waiting for, dreaming of ... this. And more. And when James had kissed him, just minutes ago, just before this fucking interruption, he had felt it in his whole body that McAvoy was in it heart and soul just like he himself was. Well, perhaps he had been wrong and James had just played that. He could do things to minds, let alone his, he had proven that often. Okay, so fun it was and that was that. He could live with that, Michael thought. At least he’d have something real to dream about afterwards which was more than he’d had before.   
They were in the bathroom now. The shorter man stopped suddenly and Michael ran into him having fed his eyes on the form of the other –yes, he had muscled up alright: the V-shoulders, the broad   
back, the arse you could crack nuts with, the muscle packed legs –all that together with a soft white creamy skin with a pattern of freckles on shoulders and arms –he could have ravished him on the spot again, which unfortunately must be all too clear to the other man when he bumped into him. Thanks to a male god, the heart was not quite so outstanding an organ, or else he would be caught out not only for being a sex maniac (and he had gotten quite used to that, what with the interviews about Shame which were all filled with some kind of gleeful lust) but for someone who fell desperately in love with the very first man he had (not really, just yet) slept with. And that would be really ruinous to his reputation.  
“Oi, Fassbender, that’s quite something”, said James, “wow, I wouldn’t have thought that possible in that old frame”. “I know”, said Michael miserably, “neither did I”. The other man grinned his most mischievous grin, brought his arms around Michael’s torso and kissed him hard and short on the mouth, before entering the enormous shower cubicle and asked, cocking his head over his shoulder, “you’re coming or want to wait till I’m done?” “I have a feeling you never will be”, murmured Michael and stepped into the shower, too. It was really very spacious and had the latest modern shit to offer – rainforest shower, hard and heavy rain, and some water spraying from out of the walls. James turned on the water –it was ice-cold –he screamed and pushed the controller to hot. Superhot.   
“Oi Fassbender, you like cold showers, don’t you?” Michael nodded grimly. “You were talking about the shower, weren’t you?” The steam rose in the cubicle and Michael had to squint his eyes to see the expression on James’s face. He grinned devilishly. “Sure was. What else here is so astonishingly good in form for such an old house?”Michael closed the cubicle behind himself. “Oh, nothing”, he said casually, squeezing the bottle of expensive body shampoo hanging on the wall and after pouring a not too small amount into his hand, stepped close to the man in the mist and grabbed him by the rather outstanding part of his anatomy. “Nothing really”.   
He pressed James flat to the wall, rubbing him with the soap while kissing him hard and demandingly, making any kind of protest impossible. When he felt another kind of liquid, even a small amount under his fingers, he stopped the kissing and the rubbing and turned the gawping man around, pressing his front to the wall. He pumped some more soap into his hand and pinning James to the wall with his upper body and legs, parted his bum and began rubbing the oily liquid in between. Thoroughly. The other man seemed to have forgotten all about his hygienical needs. He was moving his hands on the wall helplessly, humping it, biting his lips and threw Michael a glance of pure need, well perhaps not so pure, Michael thought smugly, there might be some anger in it, too, so he took all the time he thought was needed: he had no idea, but as long as it felt nice and his body could stay away from the whimpering, writhing thing before him, he rubbed and stroked and let one finger glide in and out and felt the loveless yet sexy bastard become literally weak in the knees, his poor body gave in, Michael thought from his vantage point where only the tip of his cock merely touched James’s arse as lightly as a feather, and he could do that for hours, so the bastard would pay and would have something to think about for the rest of his life, his hands hammered against the wall, fingers scratching, he begged and pleaded now, and didn’t seem to know if he wanted to fuck the wall more or get fucked by Michael’s finger, make that fingers, and Michael grinned sardonically, yet noticed with some apprehension that it was not as easy as he had thought to sustain, he felt a sudden urgency himself, and couldn’t help, really couldn’t, getting closer to the man, grab his shoulders with both hands and press him to the wall even closer and let him feel just the slightest bit more of – himself.  
Or so he thought. The wriggly bastard was not as helpless as Michael had thought. He grabbed behind himself and reached for Michael’s cock, managing to get a hold of it –making Michael scream through the fog and the steaming hot water, he would burn in hell for that, he knew, burned already, his skin would be gone, Michael thought in a faraway part of his mind, thinking disconnected thoughts having nothing to do with this, then James managed to jump under his hands, how he did it, Michael never knew, perhaps he had superpowers after all, and pinned himself onto Michael , in one go, from tip to base.“Fuck!”, Michael screamed. James panted heavily and bit his lips, his eyeballs rolling, he was in pain, he knew it, Michael knew it, he had split himself, the greedy insufferable bastard, he would die here, and yet it felt so hot, so –good, that all he could do was not come on the spot. “You’re okay, James?”, he asked and stroked the man’s face and neck, “you really are one idiotic bastard, that must hurt, why can’t you wait, for fuck’s sake?” James had his eyes closed and bit his lip, Michael thought he could see blood. “That dignified enough for you, Fassbender?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well boys. Toys. Trying to hold the upper hand. Supremacy and all that. Rather ridiculous really, but so ...sweet. Hope you like it.


	10. X.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone has ideas in the shower. Leading to things. And to talk. About feelings. And then ...the world intrudes. Again. Just like real life really :-)

The man would be the death of him, he had known it all along, James thought. Man, that hurt! And he really couldn’t blame him, it had been his idea alone. Well, idea was perhaps too big a word for what he had had. But in the beginning all he had wanted was a shower, he was ready to swear on the bible or whatever, but Michael had made him so ... horny, needy, angry, simply toying around with him and he couldn’t stand the thought of Michael coming again – and not in him. Yeah, okay, it was his own fault alright, perhaps that was not his thing after all, even if it had felt bloody unbelievingly hot until now and only seeing Michael, let alone – that, made him hard every fucking time, so perhaps, yes, he might get used to it. With time.  
“Stop everything for a minute, mate”, he panted, “it seems I have bitten off more than I can chew, so please, give me some time to –adjust”. “All the time in the world –hon-James”, Michael whispered into James’s ear, desperate, “can I do anything? I just move out, let me...” “No”, screamed James, “that will make it worse. Just stand still, will you? Can you do that?” “I don’t know what you think of me”, Michael started with some fury, but fear for James’s health got the better of him, James thought. Michael stroked his shoulders, trying to make him relax. “Let go, James, let go, relax, I’m so sorry”. He whispered silly things into his ear, stroking his back. “You don’t make it any better”, James hissed, “I have an urgent need to use the loo and a feeling I’ll never be able to shit again, let alone sit”.   
Truth be told – it got better. It might be that he had relaxed, or that Michael was shrinking or he himself had moved in a way that made Michael hit that spot again that sent fire up his spine and through every cell of his body, James’s cock raised his head and showed his interest in -things -again. Maybe he would not die in this position, split open in more parts than characters he had played and leave Michael with an ugly tale to tell family and friends and the public. “What is it?”, Michael asked, “that bad? Sorry, I try to think of really ugly things and I’m so awful to still ... when you hurt so much, but don’t cry, please”. James shook his head, his shoulders heaving. “James!”, shouted Michael, “I’ll call a physician, let me move”. “No”, screamed James, “I’m laughing. Can you just imagine how you tell anybody what we were doing here and from what I died?”   
“Won’t”, said Michael, shutting off the water at last. “Won’t even think of it”. The air cleared, they could see each other better. “What did you want to tell the doctor?” James asked. It didn’t hurt anymore, he thought, just a little burn, like after too much work out on the bike. He laughed again and then: “Oh, it’s gone”. “Well yes”, said Michael. “He does have an honour if his own, you know”. James sighed and didn’t know if he felt more relieved or bereaved. He turned around slowly to the other man and took him into his arms. “I’m sorry”, he whispered, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you”. “You?”, screamed Michael, “hurt me? Are you nuts?” “Sure”, James said and pulled the other man even closer, “come here, you stallion, I promise to be much more cautious this time”.   
“Liar”, murmured Michael into his mouth, “you always lie”.   
“Yes”, James said, stroking the long sinewy body of the other man like a mother would –well, quite so. “And you love me for that”. Michael sighed, a sound that made James’s heart weak, so weak. “Yes, I do”, Michael murmured, very low, so everybody could pretend to not having heard or said. One hand opened the hot water again, while the two of them kissed. For a very long time only that, body moved against body, slowly, sensuously, but it seemed as if the both of them tried to not let things get out of control again too soon, James thought dreamily, enjoying the water spraying onto his body, letting his tongue explore Michael’s mouth leisurely, let his whole body enjoy the feel of Michael’s body against his, so he would always remember – this. Michael was not lazy himself, he stroked his body with long reassuring movements, rocking his hips ever so lightly against his underbelly, he was not aroused at the moment, not much, they both weren’t, it was as if the shock had really only hit them now, of what James had done and they tried to comfort each other. So much for scenarios, James thought lazily, nibbling at Michael’s upper lip, content for the moment of holding his love to his heart, even if he told only himself that Michael was exactly that and later he told himself that he could have died there and never would have regretted it, but there was a noise in the living room and a voice crying out: “Mike, are you there? What happened?” and both men froze in shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes totally like real life. Not. If you want more leave a like or so.


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone else enters the newly found - erm, whaddowecallit? - relationship? I'm old fashioned. Really. And there are some hidden truths coming up. In the story, not in real life. duh.

“What the fuck?”, whispered James furiously. “Words, James”, hissed Michael, shutting down the   
tab. “That doesn’t help things now.” “You don’t say”, said James, “didn’t you say you were like –   
separated? Or was that just a lie to get me into the shower?” Michael looked at him, eyebrows   
knitted, eyes cold. “Very funny, James. I really don’t remember who started the hitting on whom but   
...” 

“Oh just shut up. What are we doing? She has had martial arts training, hasn’t she?” “Very   
helpful, James”, Michael snarled. “It’s okay, darling, I’m showering, will be out in a sec”, he shouted   
and stepped out of the cubicle. James watched him with one eyebrow raised, his mouth a thin line.   
“And what do you want me to do daaaalink? Hide in the shower cubicle?” “Won’t help much”,   
Michael growled and took one towel for himself, throwing James another one. “Remember how we   
left the room?” “Oh ... ok”, James said as he remembered, “well, yes, I see the problem, Houston”. 

He stepped out of the shower, too, towelling and watching Michael closely. He was a sad idiot, but   
the man was still gorgeous, even if he was a heartless untrustworthy bastard. “I don’t believe you   
keep some clothes in the bath, just in case?”, he asked. Michael shook his head which was rather red.   
James pitied him, just a bit, but was angry all the same and couldn’t really understand Michael’s   
reaction. It was not the coming-out he had dreamt of (well he never thought he had to do anything   
the like, truth be told) but it wasn’t that bad, was it? Michael had been in a relationship with Alicia,   
he himself was relationship-free as it were at the moment – so what the heck? Did Fassbender fear   
for his sex-on-a-stick reputation with women? Not the Michael he knew. Thought he knew. Had   
thought he knew. Fuck. 

Michael sighed. “Can’t be helped”, he murmured and stroked back his wet hair. “Try to stay here, will   
you, while I try and talk to her. I’m so sorry”. James looked at Michael with a scowl. “But why? Why is   
that such an issue for you? I fucking don’t understand ...” James saw Michael’s throat move. “It’s   
difficult”, he said. James snorted. “That’s a status on Facebook. Meaning?” Michael seemed at a loss   
for words. ‘Nice, really nice’, James thought. “Mike, are you coming or should I come in?”, a female   
voice came through the door, a voice that sounded quite serene, but after all, Michael was (still)   
married to an Academy Award winner. Michael looked from the door to James and back. “I just don’t   
want to hurt her even more”, he murmured, “what with my racing and her wanting children and well   
... and I don’t want you to be dragged into something that could become really ugly”. 

James sighed and went over to Michael who looked at him with a dread in his eyes that melted   
James’ heart. Just a bit. He got on his toes and kissed Michael on the shoulder. Then he slapped him,   
hard. “Get your arse out of here and try to make amends”, he hissed, “tell her anything you want, I   
don’t care. Tell her our game got out of control and we fought, tell her there was a cat that scratched   
us and destroyed our clothes, tell her...” 

“Oh for god’s sake, James”, came a voice that was not Michael’s. “Do you think I’m an idiot? I have   
known that you have a thing for each other for ages”. 

Alicia had stepped in. Tiny, petite, but with eyes that had a lot of steel under the chocolate brown   
exterior. Without thinking, James covered his crotch with a towel, Michael didn’t care to, but simply   
stood like a statue. A very good Greek statue, James thought, which didn’t help things much. ‘Look   
somewhere else, James’, he told himself. “Oh, for god’s sake, James I know you naked, remember?   
Even when you are - interested.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, okay. Feelings. Hurt feelings. thinking. Leading to more hurt feelings.   
> nothing of that ever happened I'm sure. It's FICTION made out of the thin air of interviews and fantasy. You know that!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone has some insights into his own shenanigans. Doesn't mean he stops them, of course not, we're talking about our imagined James here.  
> One thing leads to another and two become three and then one again :-) *see Mr Fassbender's (I call him that to keep him away from my imagined one, who is Michael and does naughty things) eyes and hands clasping when telling the tale of Magneto and Charles, or whom exactly*?!?!?

Everything stopped for a minute, the whole world, while the tiny figure moved through the room.  
“You were the reason we split up the first time”, she said, standing directly and quite close to the  
man who was only a tiny bit taller than she was. Now James was at a loss for words. “What?”, asked  
Michael, sounding quite a bit shaken. “You never told me ... you said it was because of my ...  
promiscuity was the word, I seem to remember”. “Well you were, Mike”, said Alicia and walked over  
to him, “I can still give you a long list of names. But the one you really wanted was – him”. She didn’t  
sound angry or sad, more matter-of-factly. Then she looked over to James, very earnestly and said:  
“And the only one you wanted was him, too”. 

There was a silence. Michael looked dumb-founded, James was stricken with horror. “I’m sorry,  
Alicia, really sorry. I mean, I didn’t know...” “No, you didn’t”, quipped Alicia, and now you could hear  
the anger, the scorn and the sadness in her voice, “you never did. Do you now? I just don’t want you  
to break any more things, you know? With all your sunny boyishness and I’m such a cute little chap  
and do no harm and if I do I didn’t mean to and if I did it isn’t so bad because I’m so cute”.  
Both men looked at the little woman who now sobbed but stroked away the tears with angry hands.  
James didn’t know where to look. He had known even then that it was not okay what he was doing,  
not in the really okay range of okay, but well – Alicia was right! He did things because he wanted to  
and never thought of the consequences for other people. He really was quite an arse. 

Michael took Alicia in his arms, very carefully, as if not knowing if this gesture was welcome – and  
James couldn’t fathom that, too, this had all turned out just so different from what he thought from  
the moment they had heard her – and the look of the naked Michael taking the small well-clad  
woman into his arms, his – wife, after all, after he and himself had had some – fun -, did wonders to  
James’ heart. It broke. Or so it felt. And James felt all the fears, terrors, the rejection, the loss of his  
youth, his mum, dad, his wife – and screamed. Yes, he had a feeling his heart was breaking, more like  
a steely ring around it he hadn’t noticed was there and then he felt the stuff leave his system and  
was relieved. Reborn even. 

He went over to the couple and managed to touch the sobbing Alicia very carefully at the shoulder.  
“You are completely right”, he murmured, “I’m a complete arse. But I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. And I  
don’t want to hurt Michael, I can tell you that much. But do, of course”. Only that with them the  
hurting was - had been – a give and take. Whereas Alicia had only been on the receiving side of woe.  
Her shoulders heaved and then she turned around to James, eyes red with tears but looking into his  
with a power to look at the bottom of his – well, everything. After what seemed to him like eternity,  
she nodded and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you”, she whispered, “that doesn’t heal everything,  
but thank you”. James sighed and tried if he could take her into his arms without her killing him. She  
stood still and let him and it felt cosy enough, regarding the mood they had been in just a moment  
before. James was so relieved. She felt so different from how Michael felt. He felt so different with  
her than with Michael. Thinking of which ... 

”That’s a really nice picture”, Michael’s voice came from somewhere up behind them and it sounded  
every bit as dangerous as Magneto’s telling the humans he’d have to kill them. “I seem to have  
missed a beat. What was that with you knowing him” – he pointed his chin at James, with a measure  
of scorn James simply didn’t deserve really, he was quite sure of it, “naked and – interested – was the  
term I think? And what exactly did you apologize for? I have a feeling that I’m not quite the bad guy  
here which would relieve me enormously if I wasn’t so angry”. “Well”, said James turning around to  
his lover, shivering inside but standing up to protect the minors just like Charles would have done  
and ready for a fight like when he was a wee boy in Glasgow, “it was not much really. Just this one  
night while we were filming and you know how these things come to pass ... one thing lead to  
another and...”. 

Alicia stepped out of the protection and stood between the two men like a referee. “Thank you very  
much, James”, she said sardonically, “for the ‘not much’”. “Oh well, you know”, began James like the  
petulant child he still was. “Oh stop it, McAvoy”, Michael said and James could feel the suppressed  
fury emanating from his body. “You’re out, let the grown-ups do the talking”. “Like dignified and all  
that?”, James asked with his most boyish impish grin, but he felt the anger rise in himself, too. It  
wasn’t as if he had talked Alicia into anything, quite to the contrary, if he remembered correctly. She  
had been following him around, on the beach and in this wonderful hotel they had stayed in during  
the filming and “oh” he said with a new kind of understanding and a not too small amount of anger:  
“you used me. Used me, too, to get to him”. 

“Don’t be sillier than you have to, James”, Alicia answered, “you’re attractive enough and you know  
it but normally I wouldn’t have done anything. But I felt a kind of energy that had not only to do with us.  
There always was a third. My – husband”. 

She looked to her other side, to Michael, who stood there like an Assassin not yet in action. “And I  
thought it quite interesting, to come to know him – through you. To feel what he saw in you. What  
you saw in him”. She sobbed again but James felt that these were different tears. She was angry, yes,  
but she was sorry, too. He was sorry, too. And even when he looked at Michael, he seemed to be  
sorry, too. He heaved his breast and sighed. His arms hung down to either side of his still naked body,  
he didn’t seem ready to strangle anyone, James thought, but he knew how deceivingly still Michael  
could be. And how fast he could change from motionless to jumping up and do the most –  
outrageous – things in a heartbeat. James felt his throat constrict. ‘Completely wrong track of  
thought, again, James’, he told himself, ‘we’re not going there now and perhaps never again after  
this Greek tragedy’. 

“So what do we have now?”, he said with that sunny disposition he had taken on so early in life he  
didn’t know when, the second nature who tried to please people, to find peace and be of any worth  
so that they wouldn’t throw him out or walk out on him like his parents had done – “three deceived  
deceivers?” “I don’t see where I”, Michael rushed in hotly. “Oh stop it Mike”, Alicia said, pushing him  
back, “you don’t really want to begin that, do you? Zoe, Nicole, Charlize, Jen...” “I didn’t have a thing  
with Jen”, Michael protested, “it was only just...” “Oh stop it”, James said. He felt quite tired of it.  
Plus: He didn’t want to know; he might be an egotistical prick- which he was – but where the hell did  
he come in? He had liked the idea of Michael wanting – him – all the time a whole lot better. He  
didn’t need to hear about ... 

“Who was Nicole?”, he asked. “Haven’t got the faintest”, Michael said, changing the positioning of  
his legs only slightly but enough for James to take interest again in... be reminded of...things. Alicia  
gave Michael a very strong push and that did interesting things to Michael’s posture, too. “Nicole was  
the one you couldn’t have sex with on camera but afterwards”. “Ah”, Michael said, “that Nicole. Yes,  
that I did. But we were not together just then, I think”. “You think”, said Alicia, “just don’t.” 

“You’re right”, said Michael and his head fell down onto his chest, “it doesn’t matter anymore.  
Nothing matters anymore”. The three stood in silence for a while as if some negligent director had  
forgotten to call “cut” and take them from stage. James couldn’t know what the other two thought  
just now, but his mind was quite busy with rewinding everything that had been said, done, not said,  
not done. And came up with a very Jamesy conclusion: “Well, you know what, apart from the  
betrayal and stuff, which is perhaps too strong a word, I see three people, two naked, one not, who  
had sex with each other to come to know the other one better, well, and the third one, get the gist of  
what I’m saying?” 

He himself didn’t really know what he meant with what he said. Like most of the times. He only  
threw stones into the water and watched the water rings. The water stopped everything for a  
minute, as if a wall was forming, then Michael grinned, his eyes gleamed, Alicia seemed to process  
everything in a second, she had always been the smartest one, James thought, and the wall gave. He  
went over to Michael whose eyes glittered now, his mouth stretched to one side in this grin James  
could only endure for so long. He more flew than walked and taking Alicia’s arm on the way, dragged  
her with himself and threw the both of them into the long arms of the taller man who could enfold  
them both. He had already proven that.

James was brazen enough to pull down the strap of Alicia’s tank top, but when Michael growled and  
kissed him, opening his lips with his tongue and exploring him like they had been lost and now found  
again, he couldn’t help but groan in return and press the other man against himself and himself  
against him and soon they were so into each other that nobody could pull them apart, again, ever. 

Well, nobody but a small figure, naked, using the moment when James had to step back a little to  
breathe again, to enter the space in between, fitting herself to Michael’s body, but inviting James  
with a wink over her shoulder to join in the fun from behind. James never was the one to let an offer  
go unnoticed, so he took the step and pressed himself onto Alicia’s back, which was quite something,  
too. Slim and muscular and with soft skin, and he remembered, yes he remembered. Michael was  
kissing Alicia now and all he could do was not whimper from the sight, he wanted that, too, fuck, he  
was envious, but yes, it was okay, too, somehow, even more than that, making amends and all, fuck,  
it was like all the thoughts and feelings of all three of them flooded around them, circled through  
them, bound them together and when Michael reached for him to press him even closer to Alicia’s  
behind, and pulled the two of them with him into the shower, James’ mind went completely blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> too much thinking never did any good. Make-up sex is nice. I think. If you like, do something :-)


	13. XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some time Later. In the racing circuit. Michael has a new life. But the old one keeps haunting him. In the form of our most beloved trans-ginger. First in dreams. Then in person.

“Come on Michael”, the voice in his headphones said. “You can do it”. Michael grinned. Yes he could.   
It had to work out, simply had. He knew all the steps, damned, it was only that he had to put them   
together in the wink of an eye, in the right moment and order. He tried and managed that, then got   
hit by another car in the right rear. “Oh fuck”, he hit the wheel with his head, tried to get the car on   
track again but landed on the gravel. He shivered all over. “Michael you okay?”, came through the   
helmet mike. “Yes, I’m okay”, Michael said, trying to control his body – this hadn’t been the first   
time, he had already crashed 3 – or were it 4? – cars and often wondered why they still let him drive   
and gave him new cars. But this time the car had slithered over the breadth of the whole course and   
he had already seen the face of another driver looking at him anxiously. He tried to breathe slowly,   
more out than in, to bring his heart rate down as fast as he could, one thing he had learned during   
his time in the race circuit. 

“Can you still move the car, Michael? Can you come into the box on your own?” He tried. “Yes, I   
can”, he said. “Okay, then get here so we can estimate the damage”. “Okay”. He drove carefully out   
of the gravel, trying to be not more of a nuisance to the other drivers than he already was. Of course   
he couldn’t know before he had seen the recordings, but it must have been his fault – again. He   
never would have thought driving around a circuit that difficult and even more gruelling than   
filmwork 24 hours a day. But it was, it fucking was. He didn’t even have the time or the stamina to   
call anybody outside of this circus. Of course that had been the case with filming, too, sometimes on   
a very difficult and closed set, but this here was a completely different thing and when Michael was   
really honest to himself – which he didn’t want to really, because he loved to do this and had been   
looking forward to doing it his whole life -; he wasn’t sure if this wasn’t the biggest mistake of all and   
if he wasn’t complete rubbish at something he had dreamt of doing since he had been a wee boy in   
Ireland. 

Which reminded him of that other – thing – in his life he hadn’t left the stamina to think about, let   
alone texting or calling. He carefully avoided thinking of that day/night in the hotel, every scene of it,   
every part of it, every person in it. Well, of course all came back the moment he fell asleep, after one   
beer or two, but he just let go of the thoughts. If he gave into the desire to think of them at great   
length, he would surely die here. He had to have his thoughts, feelings and gut feeling on the track,   
or he would be a goner. Couldn’t be helped. And the people in the room knew that. He knew they   
did. Plus, they had their own lives to get on with. Good for them. And it was his fault and his fault   
alone to get himself into something like this knee deep or to another bodily part and still thought of   
it, felt it –them – in the moments before sleep claimed him. He was so spent by the daily routine,   
there was nothing more to spend he could spare, but then there were the dreams. In them he did   
things and felt stuff he wasn’t sure had been reality or not, when he woke up panting. He knew   
people who’d laugh their asses off if they knew and one of them was –luckily far away. 

Michael got out of that wreck of a car – he was used to it feeling much too small for him to fit into,   
let alone move out of – a thought that led to thoughts he suppressed the moment he noticed them.   
Wouldn’t do, no wouldn’t do at all to think about that just here and now. About – him. The crew was   
completely masculine, hetero, all cars, mechanics and beer sometimes. No feelings nowhere, only for   
the cars. The guys who drove away the cars were there, Michael took off his helmet (a slightly more   
complicated thing than the one he had worn as Magneto), pulled down the upper part of his overalls,   
under which he wore – and sweat to death – fireproof underwear; his coach came by, clapped him   
on the back, the whole staff and crew, all grinning at him, as if not to make him despise himself even   
more (it was only a week ago, he had thrown quite a tantrum, with lots of words involved they had   
to cut out of these goddamned movies they made of him driving and not driving and stuff, which   
somehow paid for the cars, he didn’t understand how exactly, but they told him the viewing rate had   
upped considerably after the tantrum only in his undies, so he felt obliged (and they told him, too) to   
pull off his shirt and show off his muscles at least once a day. It was ridiculous, it was embarrassing,   
but hey, he had done that, and more, much more, whenever directors had wanted him to, but   
somehow he had believed this was about cars and not about his body – again. Well, served him right,   
after longing to be in the limelight for such a long time. 

“You did do nothing wrong”, his coach told him, hugging his shoulders, which was everything his   
body got for human affection these days and that was enough, of course, but somehow, Michael felt   
like a child and got quite angry. “Bullshit, man”, he said to the German guy with whom he spoke   
German when this damned camera wasn’t on, his German was not the best, but the English of the   
other guy sounded as if he split wood, “I was in the way and he wouldn’t brake for me”. The other   
man sighed –Michael never knew if he did that because he had caught him lying or because he   
thought Michael was much too self-deprecating to be a winner. He didn’t care much – the whole   
thing felt more like a disaster than anything else – well apart from the adrenaline highs and the few   
moments when he had the feeling that he had achieved something, gotten better and all that. There   
was a lot of people running around as always, they were doing their stuff and didnt notice him at all,   
so he stripped down to his longjohns, grabbed a plastic bottle and drank in thirsty gulps, letting   
himself fall to the ground. Weight was an issue, not being able to use a toilet on track was, getting his   
heartrate down was and stopping to shake with nerves was. His face felt hot and red, his hair stood   
to all sides, his body was wet with sweat and even his naked feet were (these shoes were too narrow   
for words). 

“Oi Fassbender”, he heard a voice he had thought he had forgotten but obviously hadn’t at all. “I   
thought you were here to drive cars not crash them. How many have you ruined today?” Michael   
opened an eye he hadn’t noticed closing. “Coming from a man who crashed a golf cart giving me   
scars for life this is a bit fresh, even for you”. He didn’t know what he felt. Nothing, he thought.   
Nothing much really. Still exhausted, still tired, still all nerves on end. Except... “He said he was a   
friend. Sorry forgot to tell you. Is that okay?”, asked the girl who was in charge of the guest list as   
they jokingly called it. Michael opened the other eye and took in James. And shuddered. He was   
laughing, laughing like only James could to something Michael had already forgotten he had said. He   
had been wrong. All the feelings were still there. They now came flooding back into his body – he was   
sure he could never move again. “Dont worry, completely okay”. He stared at James who had   
stopped laughing and was now eyeing him in a way that Michael felt more naked than before in the   
whole crowd. Which was ridiculous, of course. 

He reached out an arm to James. “Give me a hand, will you, please. The old man is completely   
spent”. “That’s what I came here for, lo- dude”, James said his sunniest smile lighting up his face,   
which had, it must be said, lost some of his sweet boyishness over the last years, but still could look   
like a teenager’s when he smiled as mischievously as now – “thought you’d never ask”. “Have to, I’m   
afraid, can’t move a limb without help”. James grinned. “Well, let’s see what a young man can do for   
you. Red Bull anyone?” James pulled Michael up with no effort and they were standing close to each   
other. “Hey you”, said James in a very low voice, nobody could hear but Michael. Everybody could   
see the both of them, though. “Hey you too”, said Michael. “How come you’re here?” “Oh you know, 

just was around in the area and thought I’d look if you’re still alive. Seems I come just at the right   
time – how many crashes do you have a day?” “Oh stuff it, James”, Michael gnarled, “you sound just   
like Alicia”. Well he shouldn’t have said that, Michael knew, under no circumstances, but he was so   
damned tired. 

James eyes glittered, his lips were pressed together until he breathed out and they went to their   
usual plush red again. “Now that you mention it – heard of your wife lately?”, he asked very sweetly.   
“No, not lately”, Michael answered, “why?” “Well, you should”, James said, “you would be   
astounded. She looks vibrant, you know. Full of life”. Michael watched James’s seductively innocent   
face suspiciously. The guy wanted to tell him something, he was sure of that, but the idea forming in   
his head surely was just that –an idea? Born out of putting the wrong words and the wrong   
reminiscences together? “Under the circumstances”, James added and now and now his eyes looked   
positively impudent. 

Michael grabbed him at the arm. “Not here. Let’s go somewhere private”. “I   
thought you’d never ask”, James piped in. “Michael, here is your Red Bull. And a fresh tee”. “Oh”,   
said Michael noticing that he still was all but naked, what with the wet longjohns showing –  
everything. “Thanks a lot. But I hate Red Bull”. “But your friend said...” “My friend always has ideas of   
his own”, Michael said grimly, “throw me my pants, will you? I’ll have a pause, am in my trailer, for   
half an hour”. “Of course, Mike, okay”, his coach said, going away to the Tech guy, never looking   
back. 

Michael pulled on the tee and stripped out of the longjohns, not caring who saw him, everybody here   
knew everything about him or so it seemed, well the guy next to him did, of course, most of all. He   
pulled up his jeans and threw the Red Bull can at James which he fetched very fluently – great   
reflexes, too – and left the building, trusting James to follow him. “Sometimes I have a feeling I live in   
this movie, what was it, Jim Carrey living in this bubble...” “Truman show”, said James. They were at   
Michael’s trailer, his initials were on it, the door opened to his fingers. He entered, then turned   
around to drag the smaller man in. “We have half an hour, maybe less”, he snarled. “Now what was   
that with Alicia?” “Oh fuck Alicia”, said the Scot, “if we have only half an hour, say hello to me like a   
good boy”. 

Michael’s legs gave in, which was just what he needed, really. But boy, that McAvoy could   
kiss. Going for it hammer and thongs as if his life depended on it, as if he were desperately in love   
and the person he kissed the only other person on earth. So they landed on the floor, the smaller   
man straddling Michael while trying to pull down his jeans. “Wait a minute, mate”, Michael managed   
to say despite his panting and him wanting James to do just that –and more – “I’ll have to go out in a   
car at 200 miles an hour, if we do what you have in mind, it might just kill me. You really need all your   
senses and braincells together for that, you know?” “No I don’t”, said James, sounding a bit petulant,   
but for now letting go of Michael and flopping himself on his back next to him. .”Perhaps we should   
have had our brains together these three months ago, know what I mean?” 

“Not exactly, but I have a feeling you will tell me just now. But before you do – nice to see you, too,   
and thanks for coming”. And then Michael leant over to the other man, kissing him thoroughly,   
showing him, that, yes, he was really happy to see – and feel – him. “Fuck, Michael”, James panted,   
“Don’t do that to me, man! Those longjohns were really enough to get me hard, now if you kiss me   
any further like that –I swear, I rape you on the spot, 200 miles per hour or not”. “I don’t think that   
would be called rape”, Michael said panting himself, laying one hand calmingly onto the other man’s   
crotch – well, perhaps it was meant calmingly, but James doubted it – but doing quite the opposite. 

You are one sneaky bastard”, James said, “I think a cold shower would be appropriate. Speaking of   
which...” “I have a sinking feeling in my stomach”, Michael said and that was really true. “I can   
imagine”, James said and his usual sunny self seemed to be somewhere else, “to make a long story   
short – I ran into Alicia in London, and well, she looked wonderful and all, and well – man, congrats,   
you’ll be a father”. 

Michael had more felt than seen it coming, but man, that hit him like a train in the stomach. “Holy   
shit, James”, he whispered, holy fucking shit, what have we done?” “Well, love, if you don’t   
remember everything, I can give you a rather lively description. But somehow I’m quite sure you   
really don’t need private lessons as to how such things come to pass”. “No”, said Michael, “not really.   
Thank you”. His head was doing funny things, showing him pictures, lively pictures, counting   
frantically at the same time plus showing him positions. 

“Oh fuck, James. How’s she taking it? And why hasn’t she called me?” “Well, you know – she is   
overwhelmed with joy. Really is. She’s some amazing woman, she really is. As to why she didn’t call   
you – hm, she’s much better than me –she’s okay with it however...” “Or whoever”, Michael added   
bitterly. “Well, congrats to you too. I think.” “Well thanks. I’m a father already, remember? So it   
would only be fair if...” “Fuck fairness, my ass”, said Michael. “Can you...?” “What?” “Well, really   
know who...?” “Well sure can. Take your blood and mine and Alicia’s and the baby’s – done all the   
time. But...” “Gossip”, Michael said gloomily. “Yes, that and she doesn’t mind either way. Do you?”   
Michael looked at James disbelievingly. That couldn’t be, right? He’d have to know, if... Well, of   
course – Alicia had desperately wanted to have children. For years. He didn’t. They had tried. Didn’t   
manage to. Had always hung over their heads. And then they had separated. And then Alicia had   
come to the hotel. Had seen their clothes. Had come into the bathroom even. And well, had played   
hide and seek with the both of them, so to speak. To the complete satisfaction of all parties   
concerned. But – “holy fuck, James. It is yours, must be. We...didn’t work. Oh fuck. You mean – she   
planned that?” 

#Michael hadn’t known he could feel that low. Well that one time Zoe had run away from him with   
that other guy, leaving him well naked and all – yes, that had hurt but this... James took his head into   
his arms. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay. Doesn’t have to be like that, you know? Perhaps she only had an   
inspiration in the moment. Or it was hormones. Can’t you live with it? I’m afraid you have to. She’ll   
never let go of the child”. “Course not”. Michael sighed. “Never would dream of making her do   
anything the like. Not that I could – she wanted to have children from age 16 or so. Only postponed it   
because of my...” “Promiscuity”, James added blithely. “Yes”, Michael heaved a sigh. 

“Mike, you coming? It’s over half an hour. Our time slot’s collapsing...”, came a voice from the   
outside. Michael looked at James in panic. “Can’t, would kill myself. Not that I wouldn’t want to just   
now. But still – plus, the cars are gorgeous. And expensive”. James got up. “Let me, love”. He opened   
the door just the tiniest bit and said through the gap: “Awfully sorry, but I had to bring Mike really   
bad news from home. He’ll recover, I’ll see to that, sorry for the timing, but don’t you have a second   
driver for the slot?” “Sure, sir, no problem”, said the voice and went away. James closed the door. “I   
think you’re right. This is Truman show”, he said walking over to the man still lying on the carpet.   
“Now – do you have any idea how I can make you not think about the fate that has befallen you   
without your doing? You know I came here specially to make you not think...” 

“I know you did”, Michael said morosely, but with an interested glint in his eyes, “You’re such a good   
friend really”. “Yes”, hissed James and jumped on the man, pulling at his jeans, managing to get them   
off the even slimmer hips alright. “And never forget that. Much more now that we share the same   
fate”. Michael groaned. “I thought you wanted me to forget”. “I will”, whispered James and let his   
fingers stroke Michael’s cock and his lips kiss his earlobe, “come on, Michael, show me how much   
you’ve missed me”. Michael growled. And then he showed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, some news, arent they? Things lead to things... They do, really.


	14. XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short. James. Thinking. Not good.

“You’re not really gonna drive that car”. James looked completely shocked. Yes, he had seen it   
yesterday, but then Michael’s car was damaged and he could only go very slow. But now there was a   
new one and there were already cars on the course and the noise was deafening and fuck! Michael   
couldn’t really do that, could he? At least he couldn’t watch. Just couldn’t. He had a thing for cars, he   
was a boy, after all, but these were not cars, they were machines of death. Michael was in his gear   
already, white overalls and shoes, helmet that looked nothing like Magneto’s. James had stayed for   
the night, he really didn’t have any other place to go, he was free for Michael, well for this day,   
afterwards would be something completely different. He had thought, after meeting with Alicia, he’d   
take the opportunity to come here and tell Michael – well, ne needed a reason, did he not? That   
Michael would take it so serious, would be so broken had never crossed his mind. In another time,   
another world, a single mother not knowing who the father of an unwanted baby was, would have   
been a catastrophe. But Alicia was rich, wanted the baby and nobody knew of the circumstances of   
the conception. And if they did, it wouldn’t matter a jot to James. He would take care of the child, if   
Alicia wanted him to, or stay away if she wanted that. After that night in the hotel he had made   
peace with the “Alicia episode” in his life. And he had thought, that well, he and Michael had had it.   
That had been it – all questions resolved, sexually, so to speak. He was only human and seeing   
Michael in that wet see through long johns would have made the pope want to jump him. But now,   
as he felt he had to stop the man from killing himself, beg him, even go down on his knees and pray,   
or do something completely indecent to him in public, James had a slight inkling, that perhaps, just   
perhaps, he hadn’t had it with Michael and that his coming here had very different motives other   
than telling on Alicia and if possible fuck the man senseless. He had done that and still had a bodily   
longing way up in his body. In the vicinity of his heart. He was afraid of these heart things. Being too   
involved never had worked for him. He had managed a 10 plus marriage without becoming too   
involved. They both had been clear about it – they were really madly in love with each other, but   
they were also very young, especially James, and they were actors and they reacted to people, so   
they gave each other leeway for anything. James had always been discrete, though, and things had   
only gone pear-shaped when they had their – beloved – child and his career suddenly flared while   
hers failed and she was alone with the child most of the times and when James came home from a   
world that loved him more with every day it seemed, she was not interested in him or sex anymore.   
The interview, where he had said that he had more innuendos moments with Michael than with his   
wife (and hadn’t killed the host when he said, that that was a good thing) had only been the last   
blow. And now he had feelings for this man who was about to get into this ridiculous car and all he   
wanted to do was cling to him like a baby and beg him not to. He was a goner. Trust James McAvoy   
to make a total arse of himself! Falling for a man desperately and then become a total nuisance, not   
happy with fucking him or be fucked or anything Michael wanted him to do, but wanting him to love   
him ever after. 

“Sorry”, he pushed his way back to the trailer through the hordes of people. The trailer didn’t open   
to his fingers, so James puked near it. He felt relieved but not so very good afterwards. So he set   
down on the steps and waited for death to arrive. His or Michael’s, one would surely come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yup, all that never happened. I know. just played with them dolls. and cars. Okay, there is some truth in that though :-)


	15. XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael tries to get on with his life but finds he cant. he has to leave the racing circuit in search for James to find out what exactly that is between them. So much better for the cars *voice coming from the off*

Michael sat in deep meditation, preparing, calming his mind for the course. Or so he should and he   
might be looking like he did to a spectator. In reality, in the real life inside himself, he knew he   
couldn’t do this, knew he should, didn’t know yet what would win but he had a feeling. Feelings   
even. Lots of them. None of which he wanted to have, looked for, could live with. Well he could, but   
he would surely crash another car and most certainly his head, too, something he wouldn’t like to   
just now. He loved taking risks, be new to stuff, feel like a newbie, learn stuff – but this, this just   
wouldn’t do. 

He got up and stripped down to his boxers, threw the overalls onto the couch and pulled on his jeans   
and tee, took his leather jacket, too, and wrote a message to his coach: ‘Sorry, had to leave, call you,   
m’. His conscience was really bad, got worse when he called a cab to get out of this and flared when   
he booked a flight. Then it was gone and he felt really good. It was the right thing to do even if he   
had no idea what to say or do when he was there. He would have to leave it to the inspiration of the   
moment. 

When he entered the City with a cab he had a plan. Thank god James had an Instagram account, so   
he knew where the other guy was – rehearsing a play in a theatre in town. Probably would make an   
ass out of himself, again, trying to turn a popular piece upside down and strip it down to some naked   
and raw thing, waiting to be spit upon by the high-brow critics and the usual West end theatre   
crowd. Michael shook his head – he had it bad. That was James’s life alright. He had managed quite   
well until now without him meddling in his affairs. It was him, Michael, who really needed to see him,   
needed to know why he had left all of a sudden, leaving nothing but a stinking puddle of vomit   
behind – well, it had nearly dried up completely, but the smell – uh! And James didn’t even leave a   
note, told anybody or was available on the phone or reacted to his one message. Yes he had to work   
and all that, but there had been no sign in that night that James would be running off. He even had   
had the feeling that – well, yes, behind and under all this funny, sunny behaviour there were feelings   
involved on James’s part, too, which stemmed from further up than just the underbelly. He had really   
needed a rest and so even if his body had reacted to James’s – as it had, of course, as always – and   
the fact that he had come there especially for him – after one go at it he had felt so tired he had   
fallen asleep on the guy. Had never happened before. He had felt awfully awkward when waking up   
all he could think of was food and where to get it in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere.   
He had always been slim, naturally muscular and done lots of sports so he could eat whatever he   
liked for years, but around 40 he had noticed some weight gain which had been completely okay   
with him. He never would have thought that being slim enough for these cars and keeping up the   
stamina to do the actual racing plus the training for it (on track and in the gym) would be that hard.   
He knew because he read nearly everything and his mind wound around the most curious things that   
there was anorexity in other sports and he had slimmed down for a movie once quite dramatically   
but he found it really hard to balance things. So here he had been, suddenly awake and hungry as a   
wolf, James cuddled into his arms at his side which would have made him weak at the heart and hard   
in other parts if it hadn’t been for his hunger; as it was, his stomach growled so loud that James woke   
up. He had laughed at the sound, kissed his belly and ordered a full menu from some faraway but still   
catering pizza parlour – how he had done that was beyond Michael but he had always thought James   
could sell fridges to the Inuit. He had gotten the stuff in, paid for it and served it to Michael, bit by   
bit, who had lain spread-eagled on the floor, too tired and too far gone to even care to move a limb.   
James had then crawled behind him, pulled him up to his chest so that he was half sitting and then   
fed him more, bite by bite, with his fingers, all the time talking to him soothingly. Afterwards Michael   
had had enough strength to apologize thoroughly for not being fitter, for not being able to do more   
to or with James after he had come all the way, but James had made nothing of it, not even laughed,   
but had stroked his hair, caressed his face and chest, massaged his arms and neck lightly, all the time   
murmuring stuff Michael couldn’t really understand but soothed him considerably until he fell asleep   
again. 

When he was woken up by his alarm, James was lying so close to as if he belonged there, with   
his rosy cheeks and red lips so adorable, Michael simply had to wake him up with kisses and after a   
good night’s sleep felt even strong enough to trail kisses down his body and wake that up, too. It had   
been quite rewarding to hear James gasp and shout after a few minutes, he never would have   
thought it so satisfying to induce bodily functions he knew so well from his own body in another. 

James hadn’t lasted long, Michael remembered with a grin while walking his way to the Thames   
where the theatre was situated – thanks to James for posting stuff like that. He still felt James’s hand   
in his hair, pressing his mouth even closer, himself even deeper into Michael’s mouth, he could still   
hear him moan and say: “Fuck, Michael, I...” and then he came and he himself had been completely   
satisfied which would have been about the funniest thing imaginable to all his former lovers had they   
known it. He had had a cool shower, brushed his teeth and kissed James, who had fallen asleep   
again. Afterwards he went to do his job thinking James would come and watch him or he would go   
back to the trailer and meet him there. But he hadn’t and wasn’t there when he came back.   
Michael walked faster. Something had gone wrong but he would be damned if he knew what. Well   
he was damned all the same, but he had to know why James had run away. Afterwards he could walk   
away and get on with his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah exactly. Go on with his life. Will he ever? Wanna read?


	16. XVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay one more. James at work. Michael saves him. Hach. Only physical attraction, sure.

“Oh bloody fucking hell”. For a moment James thought he’d lose it completely. He had been all for   
this play and doing it as a kick in the butt or other body parts of the upper class but a month or so   
with these people had let him to questions – didn’t he belong to the upper class alright with his   
privileges and all? He didn’t speak street language any more like these folk did. But he was an actor,   
bloody hell, his name sold the tickets, had paid for the theatre in advance, brought the director – and   
now it was one bloody mess of a fucked up hell. He even wished he had stayed in that shithole in   
Germany watching Michael go to his death – but no. He didn’t allow himself to miss Michael, didn’t   
even allow himself to think of him – much. He still felt his mouth and hands but that would fade away   
with time, it always did. Had always done, damned. 

He clapped his hands. “Okay guys, another try. Let’s go. We can make it happen”. Fuck, now he   
sounded like some fucking Nike-commercial. But yes, they could. He could. Or he’d die trying. He   
sweated like a horse, his voice hoarse and raw, but after three hours of relentless rehearsal he had a   
feeling that it might work out in the end. But of course they had no time. Dress rehearsal was next   
week, premiere in two. They had to fix it, adjusting it while running. He had completely forgotten   
that part of theatre work. Last time he had been much younger. He loved the work, really hard work,   
the fucking honesty of it all – in your face, you knew the same evening what people thought, not ages   
after you had done your work, but it exhausted him, it really did. 

He was leaning his head against the wall near the mirror, sweating like hell, his hands shaking so hard   
from sheer exhaustion, that he couldn’t bring the can of coke to his lips. Then there was a hand.   
Taking the can, opening it and bringing it to his lips, an arm steadying his shoulders. He drank the   
coke in long thirsty gulps, he had never drunk anything as good in his whole life. “Thanks, man”, he   
said, his eyes still closed, “I owe you”. “An explanation?” that dark husky voice got through James’s   
ear directly into his whole body downwards. His head was a bit slower. His eyes flew open, he turned   
around before knowing he did. “Michael? What the fuck are you doing here, man?” He was about to   
hug him close and kiss him, but he saw the whole crew watching from the other side of the stage. He   
stopped himself in mid air, clapped Michael on the shoulder and tried to be his usual sunny self. “Oh,   
you know”, said the other man looking even more stunning than he remembered him – no wonder   
they had let him in, even with a strict door policy, he was Michael Fassbender, nobody could not let   
him in. “Was in the area, you know. Thought I’d ask you why you ran off without a word”. 

“Wowot?”, asked James who really had problems bringing it all together – he should have hugged   
Michael, everybody knew they were close, it was much stranger that he had stopped the movement   
in the middle and did he even care if anybody saw them close? That was the question, was it not,   
together with the biggest question of all – what did Michael want? He was here after all, was he not?   
“Did I”?, asked James and stroked the other man’s arm lightly. “Can’t remember”. Michael’s piercing   
eyes narrowed. “You lie, James, and you do it badly. Please try a bit more”. James sighed. His knees   
went weak and he had to hold on to Michael even if he didn’t want to. “Couldn’t”, he murmured and   
his eyes closed, “watch you kill yourself. Simply couldn’t”. Then everything went dark. 

All Michael could do was to hold James tight and let him sink slowly to the ground. He had a déjà vu.   
James had done that before on their first – night? “Everything okay”, he gestured to the other guys.   
“He’ll be okay. Can anybody get him something to eat? I bet he didn’t have anything the whole day”.   
“Okay mate”, one of the men said, “I’ll get something from around the corner”. 

They were alone now, everybody had left. Michael held James close, leaning against the wall, his arm   
around the other man’s shoulders, James’s head resting on his left shoulder. He had a very peculiar   
feeling around his chest and stomach region – a strange tenderness he had never felt before,   
perhaps some moments with Alicia at the beginning of their relationship while filming Light had   
come close – a wonder, a joy, a, yes, he couldn’t put it any other way, feeling of all encompassing   
love and an urge to care for, save the man close to him. He was lost, completely. It didn’t feel that   
bad. 

James opened his eyes, shaking his head a bit, then focusing on Michael. “You’re really here. I   
thought it was a - dream”. Michael felt like in a dream. It couldn’t be real, now could it, that they   
were this close after what he’d thought was the end when James had run off? He leant over to him:   
“Couldn’t let you go like that, simply couldn’t”. He looked into these blue eyes and when he saw   
what he was looking for, he closed his and leant a little closer until he felt his lips touching those of   
the other man. Then they kissed, lightly, tentatively at first, then with, well more love than passion,   
both felt, quite sure they couldn’t and wouldn’t go back again behind this. They were lying on the   
floor, rolling about, kissing and embracing, laughing from the sheer joy of having re-found each other   
and all problems solved, when there was a sound. “If you think that helps, mate. I’ll leave the food at   
the door. Help yourselves. See you. Bye”. 

They rolled up into a sitting position with some effort, looked at each other with a bit of desperation   
and gave in. “So much for hiding anything”, said Michael in comic despair. James leant into him and   
kissed him on the mouth as if signing a sacred contract. “No more hiding, love. Promise”. “Promise”,   
said Michael and before things could get too soppy, a grin crossed his face. “I seem to remember you   
owe me one go in the shower. We got interrupted before we could start anew after you tried to kill   
yourself on me”. 

“Didn’t”, said James, and “didn’t want to. But yes, that’s something to live for. But first, food!”   
“Food”, agreed Michael and got up to his feet, pulling James up, too, just to make him sit on a couch   
behind the scene again, then went to fetch the food from where the other guy had left it. He sniffed   
and brought it to James. “Care for Thai food?” “Just give it to me, will you. I don’t care what it is. I am   
starving”. “Thought you’d never ask”, said Michael and fed James spring rolls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there love in the air? Liking is in the air, liking. Quote from Brian Jackson, Starter for Ten :-)


	17. XVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael has to do something he obviously doesn't want. James uses the usual methods. Jesting and then some. Highly influenced by the first pics of MIchael gone into racing. Anybody old enough to still remember Catweazle?!?! You can google it I think :-) Role play? they're together now and still banter.

“Come on, Michael. We have to go”. He didn’t answer but watched his face intensely in the   
bathroom mirror. Since when had he gotten so old? He knew about the lines on his forehead, yes,   
but now there were wrinkles around his eyes and deep lines from mouth to nose. His skin looked like   
something ancient from Egypt, Papyrus, was it? And the hair. The beard. He had liked growing it, for   
once not adhering to any role, but now he really looked like – Rasputin. Catweazle. Like Rochester at   
the end of the movie, only in his real red colour. Why hadn’t anybody told him? He simply couldn’t   
go out of the house, not now, when he knew how he looked. He opened the cupboard – much too   
much whitening toothpaste and loads of other unuseful stuff. But there must surely be ... didn’t   
everybody own them? Surely he did, too? 

“Michael, we’re late already. And things won’t start without us. So come out of there, will you?”   
“No”, Michael called morosely, “I’m not going. I look a mess”. There was a silence outside, followed   
by roaring laughter. Michael threw the door open, angrily. “Is that funny to you? Why didn’t you tell   
me I look like Rasputin?” He looked down at the smaller man as if to set the world on fire. The   
smaller man just laughed. “I like Rasputin. Plus – we aren’t married yet. You’re a free man and can   
wear your hair as you want. Everywhere”. 

Michael did his best Magneto stare which the other one held. He was used to it by now. “That was  
totally uncalled for. I thought you said we were already late?” “Yes, master Michael”. Michael glared   
some more, then he started laughing. “You liked it?” “No, of course not. It was ugly as hell. But...”  
James stepped closer and pulled at the red beard, “you didn’t look that much better than I do, love.  
It was quite egotistical of me to let you run around looking like that.  
Did anybody give you a penny in the street?” 

James grinned his widest smile. Michael simply stared, then pulled James close. “You’re such a   
considerate little bugger. Chappy, I mean”. “You know full well what I want to do to you when you   
call me chappy”. “Yes, I do. Do we own scissors? And a razor?” James giggled. “We have been living   
here for half a year and you don’t even know that?” “No”, said Michael, “I have been away, as you   
know full well – you drowned me in emails”. “Voice mail, man, but yes”. James stood on tiptoes and   
kissed Michael on the mouth, pressing his body against that of his partner. “I thought you said we   
were late”, said Michael, holding the other man at the small of his back, “if you do this, we will be   
even later”. “Can’t be helped”, said James, “let me feel that beard one last time, will you, just out of   
sentimentality”. “Where exactly do you want me?”, asked Michael with that special grin of his that   
still made the world and James go weak at the knees. 

“Your beard in my face will do for the moment, thank you very much”, said James rather full of   
himself. “Nice suit, by the way”, said Michael and stroked the shiny night blue shoulders of his   
partner. “Yours too”, said James. They were not exactly the same, Michael’s was black and he wore a   
vest, too – oh, how this man could dress if he had to – but they looked similar enough to draw   
attention to the fact that, yes, they were together. 

“Things have come to a pretty pass”, said Michael. James frowned. “Where’s that from?” “No idea.   
Now where did you say do we have a razor and scissors?” “I didn’t say a thing”, James stepped to the   
cupboard. “Now that’s my razor and you don’t want to know for what special purposes I use it and   
here are scissors I don’t know from where or whom. What are you gonna do anyhow? You know   
we’re having an official event, don’t you?” “You keep throwing it at me. I specially quit Spa. You can   
help me. I start on the beard with the scissors and you shave my head. I know you can do that”. 

“Won’t”, said James nearly furious, “we never did that before. You didn’t. You don’t know how you   
look bald. With your bone structure people will think you have cancer. Or Aids. I won’t have that at   
this event”. “Oh bugger”, said Michael and started to cut three quarters of the length of his beard.   
“Aren’t you such a tech aficionado? Didn’t you tell me you can adjust the length?” “Can I adjust the -   
length?” James looked at Michael with a raised eyebrow. “You’re such a geek, love”. “Yes, am”. 

Michael made funny faces while cutting his beard. “Get on with it”. James grinned and took the razor   
squinting his eyes. “You need my glasses?”, asked Michael. “No”, said James with conviction, “only   
they make scales so small nowadays”. “Yes”, said Michael and for this James simply had to kiss the   
man. “Ouch”. “Oh, sorry”. “You cut my skin”. “Yes, I know. Now everybody will know...” “Michael,   
they do already know. And if they don’t after today, they’ll never”. “Yes. Do we have plaster?” “Yes   
man. It’s not that bad. Some alcohol will do”. “You keep that in a cupboard in the bath? Isn’t that a   
bit addictive?” James sighed. “I won’t answer that, Fassbender. I know what you’re after. But you   
won’t do that to the family”. “Won’t?”, asked Michael and sighed. “Okay then. Get on with it”. 

James bit his lip and looked for the stool he used for – things. He got up and shaved Michael’s hair to   
two centimetres. It did look bad enough afterwards but not too bad, as Michael’s natural contours   
showed again and that was nothing anybody wouldn’t want to see. He then gave the razor to   
Michael, who trimmed the rest of the beard to stubble. James watched him – Michael Fassbender,   
the movie star, was back. “Now?”, he asked and grinned his most shark-like smile. James hit him. 

“You know how you look, stupid. Breath-taking. But you got hair all over your lovely suit now”. “Oh   
fuck”, Michael said and began to scratch himself. “How silly was that?” “Well”, said James, grinning   
smugly, “you’ll have to take everything off and shower. I shall assist you of course”. “Of course”, said   
Michael and a smile tugged on the corner of his mouth, “you’re such a devoted friend. But didn’t you   
say we were late?” 

“I say so many things”, said James and stepped out of his clothes as if he were quite used to undress   
– which he was. “Can’t be helped. I can’t let you go like that, looking like Chewbacca”. “Chewbacca?”,   
asked Michael, “nice one”. “He stepped out of his clothes, too, with no less practice. “Come on here   
Luke, you are our last hope”. “Oh no, not again”, said James but stepped into the shower, pulling   
Michael with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like? Leave cudo. And fassavoysub, there's a master Michael in there too. Has been for a year now, I think :-)


	18. XVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no smut in this one. More the ...product of smut.   
> new person, new pairing.

Alicia was livid with rage. „I knew you were always late, Mike, but for this special occasion I‘d thought   
even you could make it on time“. „Sorry, luv“, said James, grinning and kissing the woman on the   
cheek, „you‘re gonna look for a new father now?“ She slapped him on the cheek, none too lightly. He   
moved his face funnily. He knew she couldn’t be angry for too long. He was rather fond of that.   
Michael on the other hand… „Look, he looks like a human again“, James said, putting his arm around   
the unbelievably narrow waist of Michael who still stood there dumb-founded, watching the scenery.   
„He didn’t want to look like Catweazle any more , but then he looked like Chewbacca, and I had his   
hair all over me, too, and so we had to take a shower, you know, couldn’t be helped.“ 

Michael awoke out of his stillness. „Too much, James“, he said, shaking his head, then bending down   
to Alicia to kiss her and apologize, „always too much“. Alicia couldn’t help but grin. „I don‘t think so.   
After years without any kind of information from you it‘s a nice change. The pictures in my head   
don‘t become this event though“. 

James laughed and took the both of them by the hand and forced them into a happy – on his part at   
last – dance. “Well, I think it quite adequate to reminisce on the occasion, don’t you? How things   
came to pass and how Michael’s sperm met your egg and all that...” “Shut it James”, both of them   
said and Michael gave him a slap on the back of his head and Alicia kicked him in the side with her   
shaped leg in flat shoes, thank god. “Ouch”, said James, again grimacing sillily, “I don’t think I earned   
that. It’s the truth, you know”. “No need to throw your so-called truth into the faces of my family”,   
hissed Alicia, nodding and waving at the people sitting on an array of beautified chairs, like in a   
church, only more new-agey. Michael sighed. “Your parents divorced when you were two months   
old, so they can’t talk”. “Well, I bet none of them received a child while having an encounter with her   
then-husband and his not-yet boyfriend”, she said.   
“You’re sure of that?”, asked James and waved and nodded at the people like on a premiere, “they’re   
Swedish, after all”. “Oh, shut up, James”, said Alicia and Michael in unison. James played hurt. “You   
know what? I can go. I’m not the father after all, we know that now. You were much nicer while you   
were pregnant”. Alicia sighed, then laughed. “You’re impossible, James, but you stay here. You’re on   
the card. You’re godfather”. “I thought this wasn’t about religion”, Michael murmured, “I don’t think   
the Catholic Church would approve”. “It’s not religious, there’s only no other word for it, and fuck the   
Catholic Church”, Alicia said blithely. James and Michael looked at her with raised eyebrows. Both of   
them were at least nominally Christians and had been avid Catholics in their youth. Then Michael   
shrugged. “Come on, best man. They would burn us anyhow. Where do you want us?”   
Alicia got in full charge of things suddenly. “You go and get the baby, it’s upstairs”. Alicia had moved   
into a really posh apartment during pregnancy, with rooms for people to help her with the baby and   
for the baby, of course. “Okay”, James gave Michael an encouraging slap on the arm and a grin and   
went upstairs. “And we stand near the not-priest near the not-basin”. “There’s a lot of not involved   
here”, murmured Michael, “you sure you want this?” Alicia turned around to look him straight into   
the eyes. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than this baby. I’d have wished for other   
circumstances but okay – they are as they are”.   
Michael couldn’t help but admire her. He always had, by the way, and loved her, too, it was only that   
he loved James more. And wildly. Deeply. Madly. The infuriating man who just came down the stairs   
carrying a baby in bright yellow in both arms as if holding the crown jewels. “Yellow?”, asked Michael   
irritably. “Well, it’s bright and all and it was the colour of the bath”, said Alicia and even under her   
dark skin he could see her blush. Michael sighed. “You never cease to amaze me”. 

“Oh, it will even get better”, said Alicia and waved into the room. A very tall, very slim woman with   
white blonde hair got up and walked through the aisle on high heels made to kill. Michael gawped   
open-mouthed, James gawped, the whole non-church gawped apart from the baby. The woman   
came close, took Alicia into her arms - who only reached up to her collarbone – and kissed her in a   
way clearly non-catholic. 

“Wow”, said James, “that was cool. And fast. I nearly dropped the baby. Hi Charlize, by the way”. “Hi   
James”, said the blonde and stood near him now, taking the baby from him – he gave it freely, he   
knew she had even more martial arts practice than Alicia. “Hi Michael”. She nodded to the other man   
who looked at her in something that looked very much like horror. 

“Oh Michael, shut it”, said Alicia, “yes I know she was on your list but after all we discovered that   
wasn’t really our piece of cake”. “I think that’s not quite right English-wise”, mused James, “in all   
other aspects I’m completely okay with it of course. Hei, Charlize, then you and I are the only ones   
who haven’t slept with each other, isn’t that cool?” 

The tall Blonde looked down onto him through thickly mascaraed lashes. “Don’t tease me James. I   
could wring your damned neck”. “Oh”, said James, “suddenly hot, “and why is that? Did I overlook   
any advances from your side? I’m sorry, but you’re really quite tall and I always was a bit afraid of   
you”. 

Charlize hissed. “For hurting Alicia by sleeping with Michael, of course”. “Well”, said James, “as Alicia   
said just now and I remember of the - conception of the wee baby – you were on the WHSWMF-list   
too”. Michael gave a groan. “Don’t say that. It sounds like something official, something from NASA”.   
“Well, it is”, said James blithely, “You know I have connections. NASA has an eye on you”. “Oh stop it,   
James”, said Alicia, “little James will wake up and my dress will be ruined if you don’t shut up”. 

“Little James?”, James repeated with glowing eyes, “not really? Oh, I’m – happy, I think. And   
honoured.” His eyes glittered and were there tears? “Then behave now. I know you can. You had   
your own son christened, you could be a grown-up for the time of the service. So you can do it now.   
Or I change the baby’s name to Charles”. Michael snorted. “You can’t do that, you know? It’s already   
in the papers. But I see to it that he – behaves”. Michael looked threateningly onto James, his eyes   
promising all kinds of things James could see - and nearly feel – quite vividly. He swallowed visibly.   
“Okay, let’s get on with it. I rather like to be punished.” 

The not-christening was in all the papers afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awfully sorry to drag Charlize in here to, but I'm so for equality. And yes, lots of quotes, the gave us so much to chew on. Chewbacca and his friend :-)  
> and yes, I followed this idea along in my new thing on insta (which gets eaten therefore it seems:-) read in my youth of a girl on a party, getting pregnant not knowingfrom whom. In my youth that was a scandal, today it is normal tv in the afternoon. but insta ...


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some persuasion has to be done - again, and we go deeply into pschology. And elsewhere :-) Hope you enjoy.

“Do we really have to go there?” James sighed. Would he ever get used to it and lose the instant urge  
to kill the man if ever he asked that again? “You always ask that and you always know the answer,  
Michael. How old are you anyhow?” “You know that”, Michael said and came out of the bathroom. “I  
can see a pattern here”, said James and hugged his partner. “What is it this time? You don’t look like  
Rasputin, plus you can go in your usual dress-up as someone who isn’t into clothes at all”. “Well, I am  
not”, said Michael petulantly.  
“You don’t fool me, Fassbender”, said James and tried to really control his temper. He had an idea  
what this was all about and he didn’t like it one bit. They had moved together a year ago but each of  
them had been away for some time or both had been and their time together now was the longest  
ever. One month. Michael had had relationships that hadn’t lasted that long, James knew that. Well,  
so had he, but that was a completely different story. He had decided that this man was what he  
wanted, this life was what he wanted to have, but Michael – he was rather complicated and moody  
on a daily basis. He could stand that, James thought, but it was rather unusual for him to be the  
stable one in a relationship.  
“What do you mean?”, asked Michael, eyeing him conspicuously but unconsciously stroking his  
shoulders in this ridiculous and quite worn-looking Tee he had also worn last time. James took that as  
a good sign and got closer to the man. “Come on, Michael, you can do it, you did it before, or do I  
have to play Blurred Lines?” “No”, Michael grabbed him at the neck and that really came as a  
surprise to James. He knew Fassbender had a brutal side to him – well, the whole world knew –but  
they hadn’t gone there before. “Don’t ever mention that silly song again”. James thought about it,  
for a second, then he knew it – if he let him get through with this now, there’d never be a balance  
again in their relationship. So it came in handy that Michael was taller and had all these gorgeous  
sinewy muscles everywhere, but that he himself had to keep in shape like at all times or he would  
look like Bruce Robertson and he had this vigorous fight raining for the stage –so he moved into the  
man with his back, brought up his right elbow fast and hard, making Michael loose his grip, then  
made another move, bringing the other man to the ground, flat on his back, kneed onto him and  
straddled him.  
“Now are you going to tell me what this fuss is all about or do I have to tear some fingernails?”  
Michael gawped at him with his mouth wide open, panting. His eyes were dangerous but he couldn’t  
do anything. The tricks from the stage worked in real life, other than those from films. Pity that  
Fassbender didn’t do stage. James looked down on the man and smirked. His eyes stayed cold  
though. He knew how he looked and he liked it. He was not adverse to strangle the man just now –  
apart from movement in other regions of his body –and Michael’s too. Michael’s lips moved but  
James couldn’t understand a word. “What?”, he asked irritably and looked on his digital watch – they  
should have been on their way for hours. They would be so late and he hated that. It was not  
professional.  
“I don’t know how to do it”, murmured Michael barely audibly. “What?”, asked James again, placing  
himself more broadly on Michael. “Turning up there like nothing happened – with you”. James  
looked at the man incredulously. “What? Did you just say that?” “Well yes. What?” “The with-mething.  
With you, I mean. You said...” “I know what I said, James”, said Michael softly and his eyes  
turned that shade of unbelievable green that James knew bore something. He still didn’t know which  
colour meant what, the man must be a mutant after all. “Yes?”, James asked and knew he soundedlike a child. He only just noticed that Michael’s hands were at his hips, in a position that would have  
been quite –intriguing – had they been naked. As it was, he had been distracted from what Michael  
had said – again.  
“I thought you were bored and didn’t want to be with me anymore”, he brought out before he could  
stop himself. Michael looked at him with knitted eyebrows, then laughed unbelievingly. James was a  
bit hurt by this laughter, he felt tears coming, but pushed them back. More than that, he felt  
relieved. That didn’t sound as if that was what Fassbender was on about after all. Didn’t have a word  
in common. “James”, said Michael and James felt those hands pressing into him, it nearly hurt, but in  
a comforting way, “how on earth do you come to such a conclusion? Whatever did I do to make you  
think such a thing?” James felt his ears turn red. “Dunno”, he said, “just insecurity perhaps”.  
“Insecure, you?” “Yeah, well, you know, deep under my freckled skin and all that...” He would die. He  
surely would. That was exactly why he didn’t go too deep into relationships. He didn’t like the murky  
side of himself come up and make people leave him.  
“James, that is –I am – oh, fuck, I really didn’t plan on doing this here and now, but ... oh, come here,  
you insufferable, insecure, cheeky, beautiful, talented in so many ways – man. My man”. “Mpf”, said  
James as Michael had pulled him down to him, crushing his lips with his own, pressing him onto his  
body in a way that no leaf would have fitted between them. When Michael was sure that James was  
in no position to move away nor so inclined, he undressed the other man with eager, hungry hands,  
eyeing him as if he had never seen him before or wouldn’t ever again. He was so into it, that he  
noticed rather late that James was not into it like usual – he had pressed his lips together as if he  
wanted to – what? Not laugh?  
Michael stopped his hands from undressing himself – well he had already thrown away his tee and  
trousers and was now only in his boxers which didn’t hide much and asked: “What?” Irritably, yes.  
James began laughing. “Awfully sorry, luv, but again I did not think it would come to this and I  
thought it quite funny to go like that. The reminiscences, you know?” “Yes, I do”, said Michael. He  
had some, too. For a very short time. Then he growled like the hungry wolf he was and put away  
James’ Professor X and Magneto kissing boxers with some effort. James did nothing to hinder him  
but as he was quite aroused, too, it wasn’t that easy. “Did shrink in the wash, didn’t it?”, asked  
Michael under his breath while drawing a line of tiny kisses from James’ unbelievable navel with just  
the tiniest hint of hair and perhaps even less of a bit of a belly downstairs.  
“No I don’t think so”, hissed James, “I even think it grew, you know, because of the good use we put  
it to”. “Impossible”, said Michael very close to the bobbing thing James was talking about, “cheeky,  
completely insolent”. “Yes”, said James and moved his belly in a way that Michael simply had to put  
his mouth around – it – “and you love me for it”. “Mpfpr, yes”, said Michael while starting to lick, and  
if James heard it and if that relieved his insecurities was completely irrelevant for the next minutes.


	20. XX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Michael at Comic Con meeting the others.And the public. Do they come out? They are rather un-together at the moment.

“And here they are – last but definitively not least: Professor X and Magneto”. Michael and James  
squinted their eyes against the lights and waved into the huge room they couldn’t see but knew was  
there. Then they looked for their seats – yes, there in the middle of the long table on the stage,  
between, was that Jen? What had she done to her hair? – and what was his name? The guy who  
played Scott? - were two empty seats. James sat down, grinned and waved into the audience, took  
the desk microphone and said: “Young Professor X and Magneto”. Laughter everywhere. Michael  
cocked an eyebrow and let himself fall down on the chair, showing on the lines on his forehead with  
his outstretched index finger: “Young? I beg to differ”. “Speak for yourself then”, said James and he  
didn’t sound too nice, “I’m still young”. Laughter, but you could sense some uneasiness in the  
audience. And not only there. Jen looked at the both of them with question marks in her eyes.  
“Professor X has hair issues again, it seems. How is it down there?”  
“Everything alright. Thanks for asking”, James said but his eyes didn’t laugh. Michael showed his  
trademark shark grin. He knew he could dazzle folks with it and nobody would ask the obvious  
questions - why were they so late? Why were they so different from their usual funny, bantering,  
happy with each other-selves? Why had they come together first of all? Well they had, but that had  
only been the beginning of new problems.  
“Now that our two, well, let’s say –frenemies – are here, McBender as we like to call them, let the  
questions roll”. “Will there be a new movie?”, someone asked. James snorted. “Ask the company”.  
Everybody looked at him dumb-founded. Yes, none of them had been too happy that the franchise  
had been sold to these other guys, but James was usually so wonderful with fans and everything.  
“We surely hope so”, said Jen. “But of course I won’t be in it. I died”. Nervous chuckles. Michael and  
James didn’t move an eyebrow. Or laughed. “What happened to your nose?”, one brave soul  
ventured to ask Michael. Deadly stare that would have become Alan Rickman. “Professor X – young  
Professor X – wanted a fight. And he got one”.  
“Oh”, said the moderator, some fan kid or other, well kid, mid-twenties, okay, kid, Michael thought.  
He really had to control himself. He could have kicked or slapped James around the house. Insecure,  
my ass! He had proposed and the other guy hadn’t even cared to answer. Making him feel bad  
because he wasn’t sure how they should go on about their relationship in public, then coming up  
with imaginary insecurities – nobody who knew James would believe that anyhow – and, instead of  
talking the thing over, how to handle this event – together, or not –they had done what they always  
did: jumped on each other and avoided the difficult questions. Plus: he had proposed. James was the  
second person in his life to whom he had and he had just gloriously ignored it. Bastard. Scottish  
bastard.  
“That’s why we’re so late”, said James now, and Michael came back to the here and now. James  
didn’t even sound a bit like himself on these occasions, he sounded every bit like Professor Charles  
Francis Xavier in his self-righteous speech mode, and he was. “ Mr. Lehnsherr here broke the bloody  
plane”. Nervous laughter in the audience; Michael could see Jen elbowing James and looking at him  
questioningly, James simply elbowed her back. Without a smirk. He didn’t even look like James.  
“Like – really?”, asked the guy who had played Scott. “Well of course, we’re superheroes. I just flew  
after the plane broke and took Professor X with me”. “Who is he?”, asked James irritably. Big  
laughter for the first time. Everybody knew this line. Michael looked at James with raised eyebrows. ‘Okay this is the way you want to play this?Just adding one quote to the other? Could even work,  
there are so many to choose from’.  
“So you came together, from Paris?”, another bold soul ventured to ask. “Nooo”, said James, “from  
London”. Michael tried to suppress a sigh. On the other hand, that man was just too honest for his  
own good – no secrecy anywhere. Why did he have to tell people when he lost his virginity –at 13  
(Michael could still strangle the other person involved, he suspected a teacher had grabbed young  
James unlawfully), or had used his granddad’s razor at about the same age on his first pubis hair, and  
the nose-razor story was something nobody needed, too.  
On the other hand – that complete honesty was what had drawn him to him, that and his utter  
fearlessness. “And you came together?” the person went from bold to annoying in no time. Michael  
looked down his nose, that wasn’t as impressive as James’ or Alan Rickman’s, but his gaze was  
famous, too. “Yes, there was only one flight at the time. England is a small place.” “Great Britain”,  
said James. “The United Kingdom and Ireland”, said Michael. “The world”, said Jen, rolling her eyes.  
She then leant over James to Michael and whispered, none too lowly: “Have you two gone  
completely nuts? Just play along, will you? The last movie was bad enough. Just try and leave a good  
impression.”  
Michael nodded. Jen was completely right of course. He himself had no personal stuff with the  
movie, he had liked his scenes on that island and his work had been praised, but the film as a whole  
hadn’t reached anything. It had been a financial disaster. And very well deserved, too. Michael went  
into shark-charm mode again. “Yes, the world is small and I am more than happy that it is such a  
short jump over the ocean to come here. Just in time”.  
“Just in time?”, said Jen into her mic. “You have some nerve”. Well nearly on time then. And it wasn’t  
my fault”. “No of course not, Mag-ne-to”, said James derisively. “My fault entirely. Didn’t play the  
right song”. Slight insecure laughter . Raised eyebrows. Jen shook her head as if saying: I’m giving up  
here and now.  
“No, wore the wrong boxers”, Michael shot back, then stared stonily. He was dead. He was so dead.  
More than dead. Buried alive. Said shorts-wearer shot him a glance with one eyebrow raised and  
Michael felt to his dismay – yes, he was rising again. His life – just wonderful. The Scottish bastard  
who had ignored his proposal (well, that would be a nice abbreviation – SBWIMFP) had ignored him  
the whole flight over the pond after they had missed their booked one (and yes, okay, that had at  
least partly been his mistake), had fallen asleep or at least pretended to sleep and ignored him in the  
cab afterwards, too, had only talked to the driver, still brought him up.  
Michael laughed as if he had made the biggest joke ever. It was lame but what should he do? That  
was exactly the kind of stuff he would have wanted to talk about with James – how open are we  
about our relationship? What do we show? Or do we just play around as always? He for one didn’t  
feel up to their usual banter. The whole thing was much too serious for him and he knew – he wasn’t  
good at play when he was in earnest. But perhaps there wasn’t any relationship anymore,  
whatsoever. At the moment it didn’t even feel like friendship, the vibes that came from the man he  
had already thought of as his.  
“What boxers?”, asked the moderator. Without a word or a smirk James got up and pulled down his  
jeans. The room went mad. Michael buried his face in his hands and heard Jen say: “Oh my fucking  
god".


	21. XXI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone have their coming out at last.

Now he was standing there, feeling slightly ill. ‘Fuck, James’, he thought, ‘what did you think?’ Answer: ‘Nothing, as usual. You can’t unfuck what has been fucked’. Yes he had bared more, but that had been on film and there had been no reason whatsoever to do this – apart from the fact that Michael had him so wrought up, he simply couldn’t do otherwise. Well, strangle the man. Scream at him. Cry and beg him to love him, no matter what, even if he behaved like an arse. Just like now. Would have been other possibilities. He hadn’t chosen. He had chosen to bare it – nearly - all. He felt kind of triumphant, too. Should Fassbender deal with it. He had hid in the bath – once again – not sure about - this. Again. How much more outing did he need before he could stand up to what he, they did? That they were like – together? In love? Only that it didn’t feel like that at all, at the moment. He could have killed the man for making them being late for nothing. And now they had it. Well he had. He was the one standing (half-)naked in front of the eyes of the world. In those boxers. He sighed and sat down.

“Nice one, James”, Michael mumbled under his breath without looking at him. “’How do you want to get out of this now? Why did you do it in the first place? Oh, don’t answer that. No special reason, right?” “You”, James brought out through clenched teeth. “You are the reason”.

“Oh that is interesting. And I thought you were the one to control peoples’ minds”, Michael snarled. Their voices were heard all over the room through the microphones in front of them. Nervous laughter, giggles, phones going crazy. James felt Jen’s hand on his arm, her fingernails in his flesh. “Wow”, the reporter kid said a little nervously but clearly elated by being part of this sensational moment. “And what did Magneto not like about the trousers?”  
James shot Michael a glance who watched him stony-faced, eyes cold and grey. “Ask him. I can’t read his mind. Even if he’s not wearing a helmet”. Laughter again. James had a feeling they might make it out of this unharmed. If Fassbender didn’t blow it. But he would, he could feel anger emanating from the man, he didn’t have to read his mind. Which he couldn’t of course. These Conventions always made him dizzy in the head and he didn’t know at all times where he ended and Charles Xavier began.

“Okay, Michael, which problems do you have with James’ boxers?” Jen jumped in as reporter. James wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. She still was the slightest bit mad at him for not making it on the list of WHFMF or what is was, let alone to a relationship and Michael didn’t and hadn’t made it any easier for her, other than talking about his sexual preference for darker women. And smaller. And slimmer. No to mention younger, which was the only category Jen would have fitted into. James could have snorted derisively – the only category he fitted into was smaller.

“It’s too obvious, you know?”, said Michael now in his best Magneto explains the world to a foolish Charles who always believes wrongly in the good of men, “always too much”. “Yeah, but nobody would have seen it. When did you see it anyhow? And why? Did a cat tear your clothes or what?” The whole room laughed but then there was an expectant silence. More and more people seemed to get it that there might be a sensation coming, a sensation some had seen coming for years but had been talked out of believing in.

“He was hiding in the bathroom. Didn’t have Blurred Lines with me, you know?”, said James, adhering to the truth because he failed desperately to come up with something better, something Michael would back up even. “And instead of playing music you decided to show him – that?”, asked Jen with some disbelief on her face. “Where did you get it in the first place? It’s abominable”. “Thank you”, said James very dignified. “Nick bought it for me. The night you ran off with – whatshisname? We had some fun”. 

The room was so silent now. This all felt so much more like real life than usual. Because it was, thought James and had no idea how to get out of it. But if his and Michael’s reputation was at stake, a little more honesty of all here would probably do no harm. Not more harm that was. And Jen so earned it. She always thought she knew it all but she had never never seen him with Michael happening, she had been too sure about them being into women, if not into her. Which they both were, had been, and perhaps it all had been better then. Now look at this mess!

Someone had done some thinking. “So you were in the same flat together, one of you hid in the bath, let aside for the moment for what reason, and the other one decided to get him out of the bath by undressing and then the both of you didn’t make it on time. Is that about right?” 

Ty. The guy had never struck him as extremely insightful. If he put things together like that, everybody could. And would. There was an extraordinary silence in the room. James ventured to look at Michael. Who was looking at him. And shrugged, the slightest bit of a smile tugging at his mouth. James was shocked. How could he? Michael hadn’t wanted any of this, had he, that was his reason to hide in the bath, wasn’t it? He wanted to shag him in the dark but not come out with him into the light. Or had he been completely wrong in assuming this and had Michael really wanted...

“For fuck’s sake, get your pants back on, Jamesey boy”, hissed Jennifer, “if you make history now, do it like a man and not in your underwear like a baby”. James looked at her. When had she become his mother? Had he overheard any advances from her, too, just because she felt so much like one of the gang? Where did that anger come from? But of course she was right as to the pants, even if he hated it that she was.

He got up and pulled them up, then sat down again. Knowing full well that the harm was done – thanks to mobile phones and the World Wide Web photos of him in the abominable boxers were making their way around the world just now, into the deepest recesses where people lived, deep in the country. “It sounds weird”, he heard Michael say and didn’t believe his ears, “but some details aside – it is true. We have been living together for some time now”.

James nearly fell over with his chair. And exhaled. The whole world seemed to come to a stop. Very silent and still. Then all hell broke loose. “You mean...” “I knew it ” “What are you saying?...” “You’re together? Like - together? Like – really?” that was Jen. James sighed. And looked at Michael. Whose grin had broadened. He seemed to be smiling just for him, in this room cramped with people. James’ heart melted again. He reached out a hand, under the table and it was met immediately by another, much bigger one. He looked into Michael’s eyes which now were as blue-green and deep as the sea. And saw him nod. James brought their hands up on the table and faced the audience.

“Yes. Together like in together. You all were right after all”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this is the last typed chapter. I think I wrote some romantic stuff following this I havent typed yet somewhere. Would take the effort to find it if anyone wants me to. Enjoy!  
> and yes all of this is FICTION. as in NOT TRUE. NOT REAL. including the boxers. I guess :-) Even if watching too many Comic Con and other interviews to Xmen could just about make you believe in - magic :-)

**Author's Note:**

> This was my entry into the world of fanfiction again, a place I thought I left behind just like Michael here thought he could leave James and his feelings for him behind. And something fell into all the right places inside me when I wrote this. If you enjoy, a short little click would be nice :-)


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